


The Real Me

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Kink Meme, intellectually challenged Daryl, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-02-18 22:18:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 90,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2364071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: Daryl is mentally younger than his age. He's learnt how to hide it for most of his life, but with the end of the world and suddenly being stuck with a group he doesn't know, he begins to slip and the group begin to see his more natural behaviour come through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lessons Learned

Daryl knew he was different. There weren’t no big words that anyone ever said for what was different about him, but he knew something in his brain didn’t work quite right. Merle said it was like his body grew but some of him stayed the same, young, a kid inside of his mind when he should be a grown up. It weren’t like he ever minded, not when he was a teenager and people at school thought it was funny. But then he got older and people started calling some of the things he did weird, they started pointing and staring and though he didn’t care what those assholes thought of him anyway, it didn’t mean he wanted them to carry on saying stuff behind his back. 

So over the years he learnt to hide a lot of the things he did that others didn’t. Merle helped teach him. Well, Merle punched his arm and told him to pack it in if he was doin’ something a little too weird for his age. He learned not to suck his thumb in public because it wasn’t something adults did, no matter how much it made him feel better, he instead chewed on his thumbnail. Some people still tutted, but they didn’t point and laugh so it was better. 

He learnt that most adults didn’t act like he did when they got scared or upset from a nightmare. Most adults would wake up, realise it was all fake and get over it, maybe have a drink or a smoke and go back to sleep. They didn’t want hugs or comfort, or bundle themselves in blankets and keep themselves awake to watch out for monsters. Merle got sick of that pretty fast, so he learnt to keep quiet, to pinch at his arm until it hurt to stop from crying and try to act like more of an adult. 

Merle said it was something mucked up in his head that was the problem and over the years Daryl begins to be able to see the differences between himself and others. When Merle gets frustrated he grumbles, he stalks about a bit but the anger is really all kept on his face and locked away inside. Whenever Daryl got angry it felt like he didn’t know how to keep it in, he usually ended up screaming, hitting and kicking at things, yelling and going red in the face until he felt better. He got worked up easier over things, he didn’t like when he got upset and wanted to cry and Merle would call him a pussy for sniffing back tears over something. 

It wasn’t easy but he found ways around it all. Merle always said he wasn’t dumb and he knew he wasn’t, he could read and write just fine, his grades weren’t appalling when he finished school and he was pretty good at fixing problems. It was just when it came to people and stuff he got a bit mixed up and found it difficult to work out just how he was meant to be acting about everything. Emotions were hard and dealing with them was even harder, especially when other people were talking about them. Sometimes he couldn’t understand it at all, but that’s where Merle came in. 

Sure his big brother was an asshole most of the time, but there were other times where Merle helped make things just a little bit clearer. Like when he’d shove Daryl away if he sat too close and call him a pussy, it helped Daryl learn how far away to sit from others. Or the time when Merle would tell him to keep his stupid questions to himself because only babies didn’t know the answers. He learnt to hide it all away, to keep the broken part of him hidden and act like an adult. It didn’t mean he understood anything any better, but people stopped staring at him so much, so he guessed that was a good thing. 

When the infection spread he’s glad Merle was there to help him through it all.   
Instead of it just being people that confused him, suddenly it felt like the whole world didn’t make any sense anymore and all the rules he’d set in place were crumbling apart and leaving him on edge. People were crying in the streets, some were fighting and acting like animals did when there was prey to hunt and it leaves him completely lost within it all and looking to Merle for answers. He helps pack the truck, he does as he’s told and gets in the passenger side so Merle can drive but all the news reports from the past few days mix with the questions in his head and make him feel more confused than ever.

“I don’t understand Merle.” He finally manages to mumble into the silence between them, fully aware of how hard Merle is gripping the steering wheel and how he wants everything to make sense again. There’s no reply from his brother, they keep driving and there are people in the roads, some screaming, some bleeding, some of them doing things he’s only ever seen coyotes do. Daryl fights down the urge to yell out his frustrations and chews on his thumb, feeling uneasy. He wants to know where they’re going, he wants to know why they’re leaving home, he wants to know what’s wrong and why Merle won’t tell him. “Merle? I don’t under-“

“I know you don’t! I know you don’t understand Daryl!” Merle snaps and like that he’s flinching, pulling away from his brother to glare out the window, biting down harder on his thumb to stop the tears that threaten to fall. He hadn’t meant to make Merle mad, he just wanted to know what was happening. They drive for a while longer, long enough that Merle finally loosens his grip on the steering wheel and Daryl doesn’t feel quite so worried about getting hit anymore. When Merle stops the car though Daryl does worry a little, especially since they’re nowhere in particular.

Looking at his brother he can see that Merle looks tired but there’s more behind it that he doesn’t understand. It’s kind of the same look Merle’s had before, and he wishes he knew how to fix it. Looking around outside the car there’s nothing around them, just road ahead of them and a smear of blood with some road kill still pulverised into the tarmac next to it. Probably a fox or something, long dead and rotting. They sit for a while and Daryl finds himself fidgeting, rocking his leg, biting his nails and trying to stop himself from asking more questions that’ll piss Merle off.

Then something moves in the bushes to the side of them and he’s on edge, alert like he’s on a hunt and watching as someone staggers out onto the roadside. They don’t look very well, there’s a lot of blood, he looks grey instead of pink and Daryl can’t help but draw a little closer to Merle when the thing makes a noise like a growl.

Merle’s hand falls to his shoulder and the look on Merle’s face says he’s being serious right now, it’s the kind of look that means he’ll get a smack if he doesn’t pay attention. So he meets Merle’s gaze as he talks and makes sure to nod at the right times. “Now I need you to listen to me alright little brother? What I’m gonna tell you is important now, the most important thing I’ve ever told you and you have to understand okay?”

He can feel the questions bubble up in his throat, he wants to watch the man on the road as he crouches down to begin eating at the remains of the fox. But instead he nods, leaning a little closer to Merle and making sure not to get distracted since this is important. “I’m listening Merle.” Daryl confirms with another nod, hoping his brother knows he has all of his attention.

“You see that man out there?” Merle asks, pointing to where the man from the bushes is eating the meat from beneath the fur, tearing it apart with his hands easily. It looks gross, there’s blood everywhere but he turns back to Merle instead of staring at it, giving him another nod. “He’s dead Daryl.” His brother says, his voice calm but it just brings up a thousand questions for Daryl.

Looking back to the road he watches the man eat the fox, stripping bones free of flesh and smearing his face with blood. He doesn’t look very dead. Chewing on his lip he fidgets a little with his hands, trying to connect the pieces and stop the questions. He remembers mama and the fire, he remembers their dad yelling at him that she was dead and gone and Merle trying to explain it all to him in a way he’d understand. Daryl still remembers it all now, but what Merle had said then and what he was seeing didn’t make sense when he put them together. 

Merle is watching him, waiting for him to reply and though he knows Merle doesn’t like questions he knows he hates it when he pretends to understand even more. “But Merle, you said when things die it’s like they’re sleeping. They don’t move no more.” He remembers that, and every lesson of hunting afterwards had proved it to be true after they stopped twitching and shit.

His brother runs his fingers over his cropped hair and then nods before continuing, and Daryl’s pleased he’s not mad at him for not getting it. “Well it’s like they’re sleepwalking okay?” Okay that made a kind of sense. “But these things, they ain’t just dead, they’re sick too alright and when something is sick you can’t let it touch you right? Because if they bite or scratch you then you’ll get sick and die too. They’ll infect you Daryl and once that happens there’s no fixing it.” Merle holds his shoulders, digging in his fingers and making sure their eyes meet. Daryl feels unsure about it all, but Merle’s never lied to him before when it was important.

“Like with rabies?” He asks, remembering an earlier lesson in his life and flinching back a little when Merle snaps back at him.

“No, no not like fucking rabies. This is worse than that Daryl.” His brother snarls, his movements are angry, short and sharp as he hits the steering wheel before grabbing at Daryl again and shaking him a little. “You cannot get bit you hear me? You don’t let no one who’s got bit near you, and don’t let none of those things touch you alright?” Merle looks really pissed right now and Daryl knows this must be really really important right now. So he nods, and he makes sure to repeat the information to himself before replying.

“I won’t Merle.”

His brother nods, patting at his sides before opening the door of their truck and gesturing for him to follow. “Alright, now get your bow and come with me.”

Daryl doesn’t know what they’re doing, but usually Merle only told him to get his bow if they were going hunting and right now this didn’t seem like a good hunting spot. “Merle?”

He doesn’t get a chance to ask a question before Merle is holding him back, the two of them standing before the truck as the headlights illuminate the man eating the fox. “Alright now do you remember when I first taught you how to hunt? Remember what I told you when you got upset over having to kill the rabbits?”

Nodding in reply Daryl holds the bow a little tighter, still unsure as to why they were thinking of going hunting right now. “Sometimes we have to kill things for us to live and we’re more important than rabbits.” He recites, a lesson well learned and repeated out loud whenever he got upset at having to shoot another defenceless creature to stop his growling stomach. 

“Exactly.” He thinks Merle sounds a little proud of him right then, but the moment passes and Merle is catching his chin, meeting his eyes and looking serious again. “Now I need you to listen to me real careful now little brother.” And Daryl makes sure to listen real hard when Merle looks at him like that. “You’ve got to kill the biters for us to live because we’re more important than they are.” Merle explains to him and Daryl feels his brother’s grip tighten on his chin when he tries to look back at the man and the fox. 

“But you always said don’t ever point a weapon at a person unless I wanted to go to prison.” He remembers every lesson Merle ever taught him, he remembers it all and right now having to shoot them meant he’d be breaking a rule. It didn’t make any sense. 

Merle looks pissed, but it’s a quiet kind of pissed, like he doesn’t want to yell about it. Instead his brother sighs and Daryl doesn’t like that sound at all. “Well things are different now Daryl. There ain’t no prison, there ain’t no law or police anymore. All there is now is you and me and making sure we survive.” He knew sometimes to survive you had to kill things, but rabbits and squirrels and deer weren’t the same. “Now for us to survive we have to kill the biters. They ain’t people no more Daryl, they’re just…they’re bad alright? And we gotta take them out before they kill us.”

The guy doesn’t look bad. He’s just kneeling on the road and eating the remains of the dead fox, smearing blood all over himself and his grey skin, looking ugly and wrong. Chewing on his lower lip he gives a half shrug, not fully understanding but Merle had never lied to him when it had been important before. Merle moves beside him, nudging for him to pull back the string on his bow and hold it ready to fire. He does so, of course he does, but he doesn’t like it when Merle makes him point it at the man on the road.

“Now remember what I said about headshots?” Merle asks him and of course he remembers. Daryl remembers watching a deer struggle in pain, staggering through the brush, bleeding, calling out, crying in pain before Merle had shot it right between the eyes. Don’t let it suffer. “You gotta take these out with one or they’ll just keep getting up to kill you Daryl. So do it now, one shot to the head.” Merle encourages him, pushing the crossbow up so he’s looking down the sight and he feels a little sick as the man comes into position for him. He hesitates, he shifts his weight on his feet and doesn’t like when Merle nudges him again. “Come on little brother.”

He feels sick, there’s more questions running through his mind and there’s a fear that twists in his gut when the man in the road stands up, fur caught in his teeth as he moves towards them. There’s another growl and though he sounds like an animal, he’s still a human and he knows only bad people shoot humans. “I…I don’t want to Merle.” He stutters, not taking his eyes off the man that stumbles closer and reaches out his arms towards them. 

“No one wants to, but you gotta stop being a pussy right now and do it you hear?” Merle snaps and the stumbling, bloody mess of a man moves towards his brother instead. Daryl flinches back a little and watches as Merle moves away from him, a glare on his face as he moves towards the man he’d said was bad. “I ain’t got time for you being a fuckin’ sissy Daryl, now shoot him. Kill it before it kills you or kills me.” Merle yells to him and Daryl knows he’s shaking, his crossbow still in his grip but his fingers don’t want to do it. “That what you want?” His brother asks and he’s shaking his head, because of course he doesn’t want that. “You want it to kill me huh? Cause it’s gonna bite me if you don’t take it down.” Merle steps further away from him, closer towards the growling man and Daryl can feel his heart thud harder in his chest when the man gets within grabbing distance of his brother. “You need to shoot it Daryl!” Merle yells. “It’s going to kill me.” The man growls and lunges like an animal. “Daryl!”

Daryl doesn’t remember bringing the crossbow back to position, or staring down the sight, or even pulling the trigger, but he remembers the way the man falls to the floor with a bolt in his face and how scared he’d been of losing Merle. He sobs when it’s over, crossbow falling to the floor with a clatter and covering his face from the sight of it all. Merle’s fingers move to hold the back of his neck, keeping him steady as he steers him back inside the truck and sets his bow in his lap for him.

“You know I had to do it little brother.” Merle tells him, voice low and calming, one Daryl remembers from when he was younger and scared of nightmares that haunted his sleep. “You needed to do it. You needed to learn, now don’t you ever hesitate again you hear? You even think about it and you remember that if you let one go it could kill one of us alright?” He can’t answer, he’s too busy curling into his seat and not caring if Merle thinks he’s a sissy for crying over it all. His sobs hurt his chest, he still feels sick and he doesn’t totally understand, but he knows Merle almost got hurt and he never wanted that to happen again. “You did good little brother.” Merle croons and Daryl knows things are fucked up when his brother doesn’t yell at him for sucking his thumb.


	2. Making Choices

Things don’t get much better after that. Daryl still has a lot of questions that he doesn’t ask for fear of Merle snapping at him, he has to kill a lot more biters to survive and there are no safe zones for them to go to. Merle decides they need to join a group to survive and tells him the secret that they’re really going to rob them blind when the time was right and carry on by themselves. He could cope with that, he and Merle did fine on their own and he didn’t much like people anyway. So he does as Merle says and helps out, he goes hunting, he takes down walkers or biters or whatever everyone wants to call them and things kind of go alright for a few months.

He remembers how to keep his differences hidden, he doesn’t ask anyone any questions and no one gives him very many funny looks at all. Not until the day when Merle doesn’t come back from Atlanta.

Some new man is there trying to talk to him, another cop like Shane but not as loud, telling him Merle got left behind and that he’s sorry. The words all blur into one big mess in his head, a mass of questions bubble up and he doesn’t know if he wants to scream or cry about it all. Instead he does both, throwing his batch of squirrels at the new cop and tackling him to the floor. He hates him, he hates all of them and their stupid camp and leaving his brother behind.

Someone grabs at him, they fight, he screams, he yells he wants to tear at his hair and make them all hurt the same as he does inside but it doesn’t work. He’s crying, he knows he’s crying and only pussies cry but it’s not fair! Why did they leave him? Was he dead? Was he hurt? What had happened and why was everyone looking at him like that? They gawp, they stare and he feels sick and angry when he snarls for them to tell him where Merle is.

The people here aren’t like him, they don’t think like he does and they talk so fucking much. He wants to go find Merle, he wants to go now but people keep talking, calling Merle a douchebag and stalling for time. If they’d got back the day before and Merle was chained to a roof then he could be sick from heatstroke by now, maybe even dead already for all he knew! Why didn’t these people want to move any faster? They weren’t being fair and he knows it’s all their fault when they get back to the quarry and there’s no Merle and more death around them all.

He doesn’t much like these people at first. Sure he’s used to most of them and the Carol lady has always been nice enough to him, but most of them are stupid. Like Andrea, she’s too busy crying and holding her sister’s body to stab her in the head and he knows that’s what you have to do. It wasn’t fair to let something suffer, you had to put it out of its misery. Besides, Merle said if you were bit then you were one of them and they were all more important than the walkers. Sometimes you had to kill things to survive.

These people didn’t get that, they cry and hold their children close, sobbing and mourning the dead instead of getting them in the head and putting them out of their misery. Andrea cradles Amy’s body, Rick tries to help and so does he in his own way, but Shane yells at him and he really does not like the way he’s always bossing him around. Chewing on his thumbnail he doesn’t like having to wait for these people to do the right thing when he knows what the right thing is and when Jim is revealed to have been bit he knows what to do.

Swinging the pick axe high he goes to give the head shot, to put him out of his misery and keep them safe. A click behind his ear makes him falter and he feels sick when Rick, the new cop speaks. “We do not kill the living.” He remembers Merle’s lessons, he remembers being told to never ever point a weapon at anyone unless you wanted to go to prison. You had to mean it when you had a weapon and now this man wanted to kill him? Why not, he’d already gotten rid of his brother too, why not get rid of him too?

It makes him feel sick, on edge and he has so many fucking questions that these people won’t want to answer. Huffing a little he sneers to Rick, disliking the man more and more when he doesn’t back down. “’s funny coming from a guy with his gun to my head.”

“We may disagree about some things but not this. Now put it down. Go on.” Shane adds, standing tall and firm, hands on his hips and not looking at all happy with him. He speaks as if he’s a child or stupid and it’s with a snort that he drops the pick axe down, kicking at the dirt and moving away from the buddy buddy cops. He didn’t want to deal with any of this and now these people were making stupid choices and putting him in danger. It wasn’t fair, it was too confusing and he didn’t want any of this.

He does what he can to make himself feel better without pissing off the men in charge, shoving the blade of the pick axe through the skulls of every other dead body, making sure to put them out of their misery. It’s what he’d want, that’s what he’d told Shane earlier and he knows it’s the truth. Ain’t no way he’d want to come back as one of these things, not in a million years would he want to be a walker. A hand reaches out to touch his arm and he flinches a little, relaxing when it’s only Carol next to him, looking down at the body he’d been about to put down.

“He’s my husband.” She whispers to him and though he’s not sure if he should, he lets her take the pick axe for herself. Carol’s crying, she sobs as she swings the axe down and he can’t help but cringe away when she does it again, and again, and again until Ed’s head is nothing but mush and jelly against the sun baked ground. Daryl remembers the horrible sounds that would come from her tent during the night, he remembers the nightmares that gave him and how Merle had told him to keep his nose out of everyone else’s business. He feels sick when he sees how angry she is at the dead man beneath them and can’t help but flinch when she strikes down one last time. It makes his scars itch to think about for too long.

Everyone moves around him, packing things up and shifting about. Jim is treated as if he’s sick and not a walking threat, but he makes sure to stay away like Merle had told him to. Daryl watches as they all move to the vehicles, scurrying around after the bodies are burned and buried and he sits in the dirt unsure. He feels completely lost again and right now Merle isn’t even here to help him.

They all seem to know what they’re doing. There’s talk of going to the CDC and he knows no one wants to hear his stupid questions so he doesn’t ask what the hell is a CDC? Instead he sits in the dust, picking at the stray tufts of grass around him and letting them fall between his fingers to the dirt. His crossbow is beside him, arrows all clean and ready should he need them, but he has a feeling he must be doing something wrong because Rick is coming up to him with a strange look on his face. It’s like he’s mad but doesn’t want to say it and Daryl’s not sure what he’s done wrong now.

“Hey.” Rick starts and Daryl doesn’t look up, he doesn’t want to talk to this man, not when he’s been nothing but a jerk to him and Merle. “I’m sorry about what happened to your brother Daryl.” Though he had gone back and helped him when he hadn’t had to, after he’d just found his own family alive and well too. Shrugging a little he decides to listen to Rick if nothing else. “I really wish I could change things but I can’t. But I don’t want us to be on bad terms because of it. Right now our best chance of survival is sticking together and heading to the CDC to get some answers.” Rick tells him and Daryl finds himself peering up to where the other man is crouched before him.

Rick looks sad he guesses, but he doesn’t know why. Maybe he’d done something to upset him? Shrugging a little he continues plucking at the dirt with one hand whilst lifting the other so he can chew on his thumb, used to the taste of earth and nature on his tongue. He doesn’t know what the other man wants from him right now, so he doesn’t bother saying anything that could make him angry. That was what worked best in his life, stay quiet, don’t piss anyone off and you might get away just fine.

“You need a hand getting everything packed away?” Rick asks him and he frowns at that, shaking his head and glancing back to where his and Merle’s tent still stands. “Well we’re leaving soon, so you need to hurry up if you don’t want to get left behind.” Daryl looks up at that, wondering exactly what part of the conversation he’d missed. Was he going with them? No one had asked him if he was going. He’d thought they were going to go and leave him here to wait for Merle to come back. Wasn’t that what he should do?

Though now he was starting to question it all as Rick moved away to continue helping his family get packed up. Was staying here what he should do? If Merle was going to come back anywhere it would be here surely? God he wishes Merle was here, Merle always knew what to do and didn’t get confused so easily over what was the right choice. Running his fingers through his hair he doesn’t care if he smears himself in dirt and grime, right now he feels completely lost. Should he stay here? Or should he go to whatever a CDC was with the rest of the group?

The quarry wasn’t exactly safe, they’d been caught off guard even with all of their alarms in place and a lot of people had died. Besides he remembers Merle telling him about why animals lived in groups. Surviving was easier in a group, it meant you had more eyes and ears to look out for danger and someone else could get eaten instead of you. Maybe he shouldn’t stay here alone.

He never did so good on his own anyway. Least when Merle was around there was always someone else to make the hard decisions for him and he could get by easy enough with these people he supposes. Carol wasn’t so bad and at least he was a good enough shot to keep walkers off of their asses. Glancing over to where the group are setting up vehicles he chews on his thumb, stomach feeling uneasy and completely unsure how to make this decision.

Did he leave behind the one place he knew Merle would come back to, or did he try and find somewhere safe to go with the group?

Daryl spends the journey to the CDC chewing on his thumb and wondering if he’s made the right choice.

He does not like the CDC. It’s underground, not even like a basement, but really far underground and it makes his stomach clench a little to feel so trapped. Everything is white and bright, it feels like a hospital and it’s too clean, it makes him feel even dirtier than normal and though usually he doesn’t care, the cleanliness of it all makes him feel like he should care. He doesn’t mind the food or the hot water, he really doesn’t mind the booze and getting drunk, being able to feel that buzz in his body and ignore all the questions he still has buzzing around his head. When he’s drunk he doesn’t have to think about Merle or his own choices, he doesn’t care about if people think he’s weird or different, he just enjoys the taste and not having to think for a moment.

That night is one of the best nights sleep he gets in a long time. There’s no one there to scold him for sucking his thumb, or for hugging his pillow tightly when he feels cold and alone. Instead he’s in a real bed, with no worry of walkers or nightmares haunting him, still buzzed from the alcohol and able to ignore any worries left linger in the back of his mind. The sheets are clean, he’s clean from his shower and the questions are nothing more than things to deal with in the morning.

When there’s a knock on his door the next morning, or what he thinks is morning since there’s no natural light down here, he groans and buries further into his bed, wanting to ignore it and sleep more. There’s more knocking, the sound of a door creaking open and he just wants them to go away. “Daryl?” Someone calls for him and for a moment he’s not exactly sure where he is anymore. He remembers when his mom used to wake him up, stroking through his hair and easing him into consciousness when he had to go face the world for another day. “Daryl, it’s time to wake up.”

Soft fingers run down his shoulder lightly, just running over his skin and he huffs a little at the feel of it. It’s nice and he sighs a little as the hand moves to his head, running over his hair like mom used to and letting him blink himself awake in his own time. Only when he opens his eyes it’s not mom, it’s Carol and he’s bolting upright, grabbing the sheets around himself and scrabbling back from her instantly. She startles back from him, he feels bad but he’s also so glad that he went to bed fully clothed last night.

“Sorry!” Carol apologises to him immediately, stepping back from him and keeping her hands in the air, surrendering to him as if he was going to hurt her. “I was just trying to wake you.”

He knows that, he knows that Carol would never hurt him for sure, but he also knows that adults don’t act like he does. Only kids liked having their hair stroked and being woken up so gently, and he wasn’t a kid. Daryl knew to keep the fact that he liked sissy stuff like that a secret, even if it would only be Carol that knew. So he pulls back, he moves away from her and pretends that he doesn’t want to have her wake him like this every morning. Instead he huffs, avoids her gaze and mumbles an answer. “Well I’m awake now.”

Carol doesn’t sound mad, but there’s a sigh before she speaks again and he can see the way she fidgets briefly in his peripheral vision, as if he’s made her uncomfortable. “There’s breakfast in the main room, I thought you might want to come and join us?” Shrugging a little he tries not to seem so eager, picking at the sheets around himself as she continues to fidget near him. “Sophia and I will wait outside for you.”

Looking up he finds the young girl standing in the doorway looking at him, holding her doll close and smiling briefly. Daryl knows what her father was like, he remembers being that age and he can recall all the time he’d seen her flinch away from any of the men at camp as if they would hurt her. He didn’t like that, so he’s always tried to be kind to her and even gives her a brief smile before nodding to her mother in reply. Sophia giggles a little before she’s ushered out into the hall, Carol leaving Daryl to extract himself from the sheets and try to at least look half presentable.

There’s not much he can really do to save himself, the mirror in the bathroom he’s got lets him see that he looks the same as always. Even when he’s just gotten clean he always seemed to manage to get a layer of dirt upon his skin. Still he makes the best of it, splashing water on his face to wake himself up and running damp fingers through his hair to get it to lay down. He wonders if Carol would be able to cut it for him when it started getting to long, but that seemed like a dumb question to ask when he was meant to be able to look after himself.

Padding out into the hallway he feels a little self conscious when they turn to look at him and he shoves his hands in his pockets, giving a small huff of greeting before following them down the hall to the main room again. Breakfast turns out to be eggs and toast, and damn if it’s not the best breakfast he’s had in a long time. When they join the room is already in conversation and Daryl can’t bring himself to care too much, not when he had food and no one ever asked his opinion on anything anyway.

Instead he sits next to Sophia, ignoring the adults and pulling faces at her between mouthfuls, grinning when she giggles and doesn’t look so afraid of him anymore. When she starts pulling some back the game is on and he’s tearing toast into vague points, shoving them against his gums as makeshift fangs and getting a real laugh from her. Across the table he can see Carl is smirking, bored of the conversation going on above their heads and happy to watch him make an idiot of himself. Of course the kid joins in, poking out his tongue, puffing out his cheeks and looking the fool for a moment until his mother catches on to what he’s doing. Immediately the three of them are the picture of innocence, Daryl chewing on his fake fangs, Sophia sitting up straight and Carl smiling to Lori as is she’d imagined the whole thing.

There’s more talk around them and before Lori can scold Carl for his behaviour they’re all moving as a group to the big open area they’d come into. The scientist talks to the voice again, calling for her to put on more lights, for screens to come up and before he knows it there’s a movie playing on one of the walls. Heading over with everyone he leans on the emptiest desk he can find, wary of hitting or breaking something if he touched it, and watches the show.

Jenner talks, the video plays and really it just brings up more questions for him. There’s a person but they can see inside their head, there’s bolts of what looks like lightening everywhere and Jenner says that’s who they are. He wonders what part of all of it is broken inside of him and if they would be able to see it if it were him on the video. Then the blue lights stop and red light starts moving around, Jenner is talking about reanimation, about basic instincts and body motions coming back and through it all Daryl can almost feel the questions piling up inside of his head. “You don’t make sense, ever?” He asks and he can hear the snort from Shane across the room.

There’s more talking, Andrea sounds like it’s the end of the world again and Jenner sounds…weird. Daryl’s not sure what it is, but he doesn’t sound like everyone else when he’s talking about the numbers that are counting down on the wall. Everyone else moves to do something, people are calling about generators and before he knows it there’s panic in the air and he’s not sure what’s happening. Jenner talks about decontamination and it’s not until he explains what that means that Daryl joins in with the panic of the others.

People are yelling, Carol is crying and hugging Sophia and he’s not exactly sure what to do. All he knows is that the numbers keep ticking down, Jenner still looks calm as anything and he wants to be out of here right now. The walls feel too close around him, it’s getting hard to breathe and he wants this stupid fucking scientist to shut up keep saying everything was alright and let them go. He’s barely aware of moving until he’s lunging for Jenner, wanting to punch the other man and make him hurt, needing to do something to get this all fixed.

Rick and Shane drag him off, calling for him to calm down but how can he calm down when they’re locked in and going to die? He doesn’t understand how everything could change so fast. Jenner had been nice, breakfast had been fun and now here he was feeling trapped and wanting to get out. This CDC place wasn’t safe anymore like Rick had said, it was dangerous and he knew exactly how badly fire could kill you.

Everyone is so loud, screaming and crying, people are rushing about grabbing bags, he snatches up his bow to hang onto and paces the floor, feeling the familiar weight of his weapon thudding against his back. He feels useless, he feels scared and frustrated and no one was listening to anyone else so why would they ever listen to him? Stamping on the floor doesn’t help, neither does yanking at him hair and he knows that adding to the yelling wouldn’t help anyone, even if it would make him feel better for it. But people didn’t like when he got like that and right now they weren’t going to be able to fix this problem either.

Heading to the exit he kicks at the metal doors, hating that they have no give and yelling a little in frustration at them. Glenn calls his name and tosses him an axe, and the weapon feels like a lifeline as well as a way to vent his anger whilst being useful. Swinging it hard it barely makes a fucking scratch against the door and he’s gritting his teeth, wanting to swear and scream that he’s useless. Someone joins in beside him, Shane grunting with the effort of swinging another axe and even between the two of them it’s not enough to cause any kind of damage against the door.

Behind him Rick is talking, trying to calm them all down, trying to rationalise with Jenner and Daryl wants to scream at him that it’s pointless. The scientist was an asshole, he didn’t want to help them or give them anywhere safe at all, it wasn’t fair. Slamming the axe into the metal again he huffs loudly, feeling the tears of frustration well in his eyes over it all and not understanding why things had to be this way. It wasn’t fair, nothing was fair and he didn’t know why the world wanted him to die so suddenly.

Beside him Shane is panting, leaning on his axe as Daryl gives one feeble last hit, feeling himself crumple when it makes no difference at all. For a second he doesn’t care about not being a sissy, he wants to scream and stomp his feet, tear at his hair and cry because it just wasn’t fair and no one would tell him why! Was this because he’d left Merle in Atlanta? Was it because he wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to make the right choice? It wasn’t fair.

His bow thuds against his back, he punches the door one last time out of spit before slumping against it, hating the tears that threaten to fall. There’s more talking, people are still crying and before he knows it something shifts in the air and the door it open before him. Looking behind himself he can see the scientist has opened it and he doesn’t give him a chance to change his mind, bolting down the hallway and not really caring if anyone else follows him.

They do, they all run and the knot of panic that’s clenched in his chest doesn’t ease at all when he fires a bolt at the glass and it doesn’t shatter. Breathing heavily he finds most of the group beside him, some still crying but Shane looks determined as he fires at the glass. The bullets do nothing, barely even a tiny cluster of damage from their impact. The worry inside of himself spreads, Daryl wants to both run and lay down at the same time, everyone around him seems to feel the same until Carol gives something to Rick. Then he remembers Merle showing him how explosives work and he’s on the ground, a decent distance away and covering his ears and face, able to feel the movement of the air and the shards of glass over his back as the grenade gets rid of their last barrier. Then there’s more running, diving into cars, people are still shouting and despite hiding in the footwell of his truck he can feel the heat from the explosion in the air.

When it’s over he looks up, the sky is red around them, thick black smoke churning through the air and a big hole sits where they were before. It’s scary, his chest still feels tight even though he knows he’s safe from that bit of danger, but there’s something caught there. There was no safe place for them to go to now, the walkers were being drawn in from the noise and Daryl curls in on himself for just a moment to remember how to breathe.


	3. Recovery

It gets harder and harder to hide the want to act how it feels natural for him. Even if he knew it wasn’t the right way for an adult to act, without Merle there to snap at him makes it harder and sometimes he’ll find himself letting things slip. Like when Shane yells at him and he backs away with a flinch, scared that the other man will hit him or hurt him in some way because he’d done something stupid. Instinctively he finds himself wanting to follow Rick, the cop had a way about him that felt safe, strong and sure of himself even if they didn’t know where they were going. He still wanted Carol to stroke his hair every morning, but he manages to keep that to himself, especially after Sophia goes missing.

The whole time she’s gone he’s scared for her. He remembers what it was like being out in the woods alone, he only hoped she still had her dolly there to hold onto, someone to hug at night and help her through her tears. Wherever she was hiding he knew he’d find her, she was a smart little girl and she’d get somewhere safe and wait for them, or maybe even come back to the highway to find them. He just knew she’d be all right, even if it was taking a bit longer to find her than he’d thought it would.

Then he manages to go and hurt himself and things get a lot more difficult for him to cope with. Whenever he’s stressed he always finds it harder to keep himself under control and now without Merle there beside him, it gets even worse and he finds himself giving in to every instinct he’s tried to hide. Somehow these people he’s been living with have started to worm their way into his head, he thinks of them and worries for them and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to or not.

Upon waking up in a strange room at first he panics, there’s pain in his side, there’s someone looming over him and he can’t help but flinch and scramble away a little. It’s instinctive, a lifetime of abuse means he’s always ready for the next hit, but even through his raised arms he can see there’s not one coming. Instead there’s hushed voices, someone tells him to calm down and a hand reaches out to pull his arms back down from protecting himself.

“Daryl, Daryl it’s okay, it’s Rick and Hershel.” Rick, Rick’s stopping him from curling in on himself and with a hiss of pain he remembers the wound to his side. It hurts, it hurts really badly but Rick is stopping him from moving away and fingers are prying at the spot where it hurts the most. “You got shot, but you’re okay.” Rick explains but Daryl can barely focus when all he wants is to have them stop touching him and where it hurts.

He tries to arch away from Hershel’s touch, feeling the panic start up in his chest at being held down and wishing that screaming for Merle would help. “It hurts!” Daryl howls, feeling the tears in his voice, and the want to curl away from the rest of the world until he feels better. “Make it stop, it hurts!” He pleads, hiccupping on a choked sob as Rick keeps him pinned down to the bed.

Rick hushes him, and when he slumps back against the sheets Hershel joins in making calming noises as his fingers tie the final stitch into place. It’s not that he hasn’t dealt with pain before, but usually it was either himself or Merle fixing him up and other people touching him was never good. Well it could be good, but he wasn’t meant to let people touch him, only babies liked hugs and stuff and Merle always told him to stop acting like such a baby. He’s not meant to act like a baby, but right now he didn’t feel like much of an adult, not when he was in pain and scared.

“Calm down, it’s alright.” Rick coos, he doesn’t sound quite so scary and loud anymore. In fact he sounds kind of nice, almost friendly, a little like Merle sometimes did when he was being a good big brother. Daryl watches him, leaning back into the pillows behind him and though he’s still wary, he can’t help but instinctively trust Rick. “Hershel’s got some painkillers for you to take, it’ll help with the pain.” Rick tells him, sitting beside the bed when Daryl doesn’t struggle anymore.

His breathing is still a little erratic, but he doesn’t think he’s going to burst into tears anymore. His side has got bandages on it, his head is still aching but no one is trying to hurt him and surely if they were going to they’d do it when he was weak already? Maybe these people really weren’t so bad? But still he remembered the rules. “’m not supposed to take pills.” He mumbles, chewing on his thumbnail, used to his voice being muffled by it. “Merle always said not to take pills from anyone.”

He remembers the pills they used to have around their house. Pills that Mom used to take with wine, ones that his father would toss out the door and call stupid psychobabble bullshit the doctors made up to take their money. As a kid he’d been told they weren’t like candy, not to eat them and the lesson had carried on when he’d gotten older. When Merle had started bringing home more bottles of pills, different colours, different sizes and all of them were not for him to touch. If he wasn’t allowed them from Merle, then he definitely wasn’t allowed them from anyone else.

“I promise you they’re just painkillers and some antibiotics to stop you from getting an infection.” Hershel tells him, placing two little white pills in his free palm and holding out a glass of water. He’s not sure if he should, but if they were going to hurt him, there were easier ways. “Doctor’s orders, you need to take them.” Well Hershel was a sort of doctor and the ones at the hospital only ever wanted to help, plus his head does hurt and good pills did take away pain. He swallows them.

“What the hell happened out there Daryl?” Rick asks, but he doesn’t sound mad. The cop still sounds worried, he has a map and a friendly look on his face even if he isn’t exactly smiling. But he’s not scowling or mad, so maybe it’s okay.

Daryl shrugs as much as he can, it’s lopsided and hurts but he’s not really sure how to say what happened. “I wanted to find Sophia.” He mumbles around his thumb. “I was trying to find her but the stupid horse bucked me off and I fell down into the creek.” Gesturing to his side he picks at the bandages there, not liking how they itch against his skin. Hershel’s fingers brush his own off. “Got caught on one of my arrows.” He explains, feeling the blush over his cheeks as he realises how stupid he sounds.

“Holy shit…”

“Didn’t mean to.” Daryl tells Rick before he can start yelling. “It was an accident. I ain’t stupid.” He mumbles, nibbling on the tip of his thumb and desperate to defend himself. The bed is soft beneath him, he can feel the pills beginning to work and the pain down his side isn’t quite so bad anymore.

Rick shakes his head, leaning closer on the bed and flattening out the map beside him. “We know you’re not stupid Daryl.” He smiles, his voice is still calm and he actually sounds honest as he trails a finger over the colours decorating the map before them. “The creek, is this where you found her doll?” Rick asks, pointing to the blue line and Daryl nods, shifting a little closer to push the man’s finger into the exact spot. He’s always been good with maps.

“Yeah, right here.” Daryl agrees, remembering the bend in the river, the steepness of the cliff and the earth beneath his feet. There were a lot of things he wasn’t so good at, but maps and directions weren’t on that list. Rick draws a circle around the area in red marker and though he knows he shouldn’t ask questions, there’s one weighing on his mind. “Do you think she’s okay?” He mumbles around his thumb, not sure when he began sucking on it properly. “I mean without her doll she won’t have no one to hug if she gets scared.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of them, he watches as Hershel and Rick share a look and he knows it was a dumb question. But he’s scared for her, Sophia was only little, she was on her own and she didn’t know the woods like he did when he got lost before. Without her dolly she didn’t have no one to talk to or hold and he knew that sometimes hugs felt like they fixed a lot of bad feelings. Picking at the map again he averts his gaze from the two of them, hating feeling stupid and trying to remain ignored.

A hand reaches out to cover his own on the map, stopping him from picking and catching his attention without making him jump. Rick doesn’t look mad, there’s a small smile on his face and he just look determined. “First thing tomorrow we’re going to go look again.” He reassures him and despite everything they’ve been through, Daryl believes him. “Finding her doll has halved our search area already, we’ve got a better chance already because of what you did today.”

He finds himself smiling a little around his thumb, glad that he’d managed to do something right at least. “Just want to find her.” Daryl mumbles with a shrug, burying down deeper into the sheets and not flinching back when Rick reaches out to runs his fingers through his hair. It feels kinda nice instead of scary.

“You get some rest now.” Hershel adds, standing up and dragging the sheets higher over him, tucking them around his body and he remembers it as something his mom used to do when he was little. It’s a nice gesture and he can’t help but let out a small sigh of contentment as he lies back against the pillows. “Someone will be up to bring you something to eat later and I’ll be in to check on you from time to time.” The sort of doctor tells him and he gives a half nod before closing his eyes, glad to be allowed to sleep and pleased he’d managed to do something to help. He’s more than comfortable, sinking in to the first bed he’s been in in months and sucking on his thumb, it almost feels a little like being safe. Daryl barely notices when Hershel mumbles to Rick. “Rick, a word?”

The door opens with a creak and footsteps walk through it, but before he hears it close back into place, there’s one last thing from Rick. “Good job Daryl.” The words make all the pain worth it.

Sleep comes easily when the lack of pain is mixed with the softness of the bed and the tiredness in his head. It’s comfortable here, he feels safe and secure, able to suck on his thumb without consequence and pleased with the knowledge that he helped. They were going to find Sophia. He just knew it.

“He’s different… seems to be…emotions… misunderstanding…mentally delayed…”

There’s a knock on the door and he’s not sure how much time has passed but he feels drowsy, still wrapped in the sheets of the bed and far too comfortable to move. Murmuring around his thumb a little at being awoken he remains curled about himself, able to smell food but not exactly hungry right now. His sides aches a little as does his head, but it’s not until someone reaches out and touches his shoulder that he flinches instinctively.

Shifting onto his back he finds that it’s Carol who has brought him food, she looks a little startled but she hasn’t dropped the tray so he can’t have scared her that much. Daryl tugs the sheets a little higher, not wanting to be exposed half naked in front of a lady. “Sorry.” He mumbles, dropping his thumb from his mouth and pushing himself upright a little so she can’t tower over as much.

Carol smiles tightly, setting down the tray before moving to seat herself on the edge of the bed. She looks tired, worn out as if she’s been busy all day and could do with a rest. A nice long rest with pillows and a comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t want to share. She gives him a small smile, and he can’t help but give one back, fully aware of how rarely she looks happy.

“Everyone’s worried about you.” When she talks her voice is quiet, almost as if she’s forgotten how to use it properly, or only knows how to use it in a whisper. He likes Carol, she’s sweet and kind, she reminds him of his mother and she’d been nice in the CDC before. Daryl knows he doesn’t want her worrying about him.

“’m okay, I’ve had worse.” He nods, picking at the scratchy bandage on his forehead and giving a small shrug. Chewing on his bottom lip he watches her, see the way she gives a nod that speaks of far too much understanding. He remembers Ed in the quarry and how Merle had told him to stay away from the other man. If Carol reminded him of his mother, Ed was a clear copy of his father. Maybe he could save her this time. Or at least make her happy again. “Just sorry I didn’t find Sophia.”

She gives a sigh, it’s small, it’s shaky but it’s paired with a tiny smile that speaks of something. Maybe hope. He hopes its hope. “I know.” Carol says, voice still quiet and when she reaches out to stroke her fingers through his hair, he doesn’t flinch this time. “You did more for my little girl today than her daddy ever did for her his whole life.”

He flushes at that, avoiding her eyes to instead watch his fingers pick at the hem of the sheets wrapped around himself. “Didn’t do nothing that Rick or Shane wouldn’t ’ve done.” He mumbles, feeling the blush on his cheeks, the knowledge that he’s nothing compared to those men strong inside of himself. Maybe he’d helped today by finding her doll, but he still hadn’t found Sophia and he wasn’t a cop like them. Even if Merle always hated cops, he knew they were still technically the good guys like in the comic books.

“You’re every bit as good as them you know?” Carol tells him and he really can’t look at her then. She sounds so sure of herself, as if she knows every answer in the universe and this is one of them. Daryl knows for sure that’s not true. Shane and Rick were strong, they’d led the group this far and kept them alive when all he’d have been able to do was panic like a baby. He was nothing like them, not when he could barely make sense of anything without help.

When he doesn’t answer Carol moves closer, ignoring the food she’s brought in and sitting a little closer on the bed beside him. At first he thinks he should pull away from her, he was in bed, she was a nice lady but he’d never been in bed with a woman before and he remembers all the things Merle had told him about what could happen. Carol doesn’t seem worried and she scoots a little nearer, reaching out to him even as he tugs the sheets nearer to himself.

The kiss to his forehead makes him flinch immediately, recoiling in on himself and making him grunt out a feeble excuse for it even if he knows she doesn’t believe him. “Watch out. I got stitches.” Carol gives a little smile and Daryl knows she can see the blush on his cheeks when he lies back down to bury beneath the blankets. He’s embarrassed, she’d far too nice to him when he was nothing but useless.

Her fingers reach out to stroke through his hair, soothing and light, just like they had been in the CDC and though he knows he should curl away and tell her to back off, he just doesn’t want to. Instead Daryl closes his eyes, letting his tiredness catch up with him as Carol helps soothe the worries in his chest. He knows he’s nothing compared to Rick and Shane, he knows real men would have found her little girl by now for her and instead he’d gone and managed to get himself injured enough to be useless. But Carol still sits with him, she strokes his hair, she hums lightly and it’s kind of nice. It’s everything he shouldn’t want, it’s what little kids enjoyed, but he can’t deny that it makes it easier to fall back asleep and get the rest his body needs.

Daryl doesn’t manage to get a restful nights sleep. Between Hershel checking on him every so often, the flare of pain when his medication wears off and the discomfort that comes from sleeping in an unfamiliar place, he doesn’t manage to get a lot of sleep. So really when the sun begins creeping over the horizon and peeking between the curtains he can’t help but want to leave his current prison to get back to somewhere familiar.

If anyone had told him a few weeks ago that he would find being with the group more comfortable than a bed he would have thought them insane. Honestly they’re all just people he’s gotten stuck with, but they were people he knew and was beginning to understand. They’d been through scary situations together and he’d seen how they reacted, sometimes it was better to stick with what you knew rather than anything else. Besides, maybe he’s sort of getting to like them.

Most of them anyhow.


	4. It's all fun and games

No one else is awake this early and he takes the time to get himself settled back into his tent, taking the early hours of silence to relax and let himself gather his thoughts. The farmer might be mad that he’d left without permission, but he just couldn’t stay in that house, it was all too nice and neat for him, with clean sheets and too much comfort that he didn’t deserve. Out here was where he belonged, with the smell of the morning dew and the natural warmth that came from the sun on his tent. Things were easier to understand out here and he preferred that.

It’s a few hours before the camp begins to wake up around him, people coming out of tents and the R.V. walking round to go through their morning rituals and Daryl can hear as they start with idle chit chatter. He’s never been much of a talker and he ignores it al, huddling down deeper into his cot and idly playing with an arrow to distract himself.

He doesn’t need these people, but the horrible thing was, he was starting to want them around him. Having the sounds of life around him helps ease his worries and though he’s still unsure of himself, Daryl knows it’s better here than it would be if he was on his own out there. He’d never done so good on his own.

There’s a tapping at his tent, a small shuffle and then the zipper is tugged down, revealing a bright and cheery face to him. “Did Hershel let you come back out here?” Carl asks, already smiling even if it was still early in the morning and eagerly climbing inside the tent even without Daryl’s permission.

Honestly Daryl doesn’t care and when he can hear the adults outside going on about chores and making plans, he figures the kid just wants to get away from it all. Still he doesn’t want to lie to the kid and he certainly doesn’t want to give the true answer to him in case Hershel got wind of it. “Ain’t you ‘sposed to be resting?” He asks instead, glancing to the kid’s stomach and remembering the sight of him pale and covered in bandages against those bedsheets. He wonders if they’ll maybe match a little now.

“I won’t tell on you.” Carl reassures him, moving closer in the small tent and sitting beside his cot. For whatever reason Daryl believes him, and maybe he’ll admit that he kind of likes the kid. Carl is funny, he’s kind and always shares his rations even if he needs to eat more since he’s a growing boy. Daryl likes him. “But if I have to rest then you definitely do.” The kid adds and Daryl can understand that.

“But resting is boring.” He complains and he’s surprised when Carl joins in, laughing a little but not at him, more with him. It’s nice.

“Tell me about it.” The kid continues, moving to pick up an arrow himself and fidget with it much like Daryl is. “Mom won’t stop hovering over me, she only lets me stick around the camp and when I figured you’d come back to rest she agreed that I could hang out with you since you’d injured too.”

“You wanted to hang out with me?” Daryl finds himself asking, watching the kid curiously. “Why?”

Carl looks up to him, there’s a moment where he pauses and then he’s laughing again, making Daryl sit up as well as he can to face him. “Are you kidding?” The kid smiles, rocking back and forth where he sits and talking with his hands as much as his mouth. “You’re really cool Daryl, you’ve got a bike and a crossbow and you’re really badass.” Carl lists off on his fingers, grinning up at him brightly and instantly Daryl finds himself unable to meet Carl’s eyes.

He feels stupid for blushing. Carl was a kid, a young kid and he shouldn’t feel embarrassed about being around but then he went and said things like that and he feels stupid and not like an adult at all. The kid was wrong anyway, he wasn’t a badass, he was just Daryl. Merle was the cool one, it was his bike anyway, he was the one who’d given Daryl the crossbow in the first place and besides Merle taught him how to use both. He remembers always looking up to his big brother, wanting to be just like him and knowing that he never had a chance. Now here he was with a kid telling him the same things he’d said to Merle when he was Carl’s age.

Shaking his head he chews on his lower lip, not sure if he’s supposed to accept the compliment or deny the complete lie that it was. Sometimes people said things that weren’t true to make people feel better, maybe that’s what Carl was trying since he knew he was injured? Well Carl was still injured too, and besides he did kind of like the kid. “Ain’t got a cool hat though.” He mumbles, picking at the holes in his jeans before looking up at Carl, fully aware he’s still blushing but wanting to be friends with the kid all the same. “That’s pretty badass.” Daryl points out and it makes him feel good when Carl smiles back at him with a nod.

“Well we both got shot, we could be badasses together if you want?” Carl gives a small shrug, looking to him in question.

Daryl nods, glad that he’d managed to get the kid on his side. Besides, maybe it would be easier being badass if he had someone to help him. “Sure.” He agrees.

There’s a moment of pause between them, but it’s not exactly uncomfortable. In fact, Daryl would say he feels more at ease around Carl than he does around many of the adults. Maybe that’s a part of him being how he was, but he didn’t care, even if the adults thought it was weird that he hung out with the kid. Merle had always told him not to do it, but right now it wasn’t like he had the luxury of choice and besides, Carl had come and found him.

“Can you teach me how to use your crossbow?” The kid asks, snapping him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the here and now.

“Sure.” He doesn’t see a reason why not. Except the kid’s arms being far too weak to load the thing. “But it’ll have to wait until I can load it for you. You ain’t got the strength for it.” He explains and instinctively he moves a hand to his side, feeling the ache of his wound and how it’s currently restricting his ability with his bow. Still it wasn’t like he couldn’t use other weapons to protect himself.

It seems he’s managed to offend in some way and Carl is sitting up straighter, looking him right in the eye and accusing. “Hey, I’m strong!” Carl tells him and instantly the twist of guilt churns in Daryl’s gut.

“I know, didn’t say you weren’t.” He explains, not wanting to lose a friend so quickly after finally making one. Daryl barely notices when his thumb comes up to his mouth, the familiar motion one used for years to ease anxiety. Murmuring around the digit he continues nibbling at his nail, letting the pad of his thumb rest on his lip as he speaks. “It just takes a lot to load it and I don’t want Hershel to yell at me if I pop my stitches.” He shrugs, being honest and hoping it helps gain Carl’s trust back.

The kid looks a little put out still, but looks over him, taking in his wounded side and Daryl watches as Carl’s gaze softens a little. He’s not sure what the kid is thinking, he’s never been so good at telling what people are thinking, but he doesn’t seem so angry anymore. Instead when Carl does speak it’s with a small laugh and a smile. “Yeah he looks like he’d probably give you a spanking if you did.”

It’s a joke. He knows jokes and he gives a small laugh at the thought, glad when Carl joins in. This was better. This felt safer. “Maybe.” Though the thought of Hershel being able to catch him was laughable. Still, he had other reasons not to go pulling his stitches. “And Rick would be disappointed.” He mumbles to himself, not liking the thoughts that brings up or the churning of worry at it possibly happening. “And then Shane would yell. I hate when he yells.”

Shane wasn’t like Rick. Sure he protected them and everything but he was always so loud about it and so pushy. He didn’t ask, he told. It made Daryl duck his head and walk away from him when possible.

“Shane wouldn’t yell at you.” Carl shakes his head to him, shifting from his seat on the floor to move up to sit beside him on the cot. Daryl lets him, not minding having the kid sit close to him and being able to see his kind smile easier.

Still, he knows the truth and he knows that Shane certainly didn’t like dumbass rednecks like himself. “Yeah he would.” Daryl sighs, picking at the loose threads on his jeans as he chews on his thumb, not minding explaining how he feels to Carl. He knew the kid wasn’t going to laugh at him or think any less of him for it. “He always yells at me, or hits me, or calls me stupid and blames me for everything. He’s a bully and he doesn’t like me.” Daryl gives a shrug, used to dealing with bullies, and people telling him he was an adult, adults didn’t get bullied.

“Shane’s not a bully.” Carl tells him and Daryl hangs his head a little, hunches his shoulders and gives a small sigh. He’d thought Carl would have understood. But a hand reaches out to place itself over his fidgeting one, keeping it still as Carl continues, patient and kind. “He just gets angry sometimes and yells to let it out. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. He was really worried when you got hurt, just like everyone else was.”

Honestly he hadn’t really thought about that. Sure these people had slowly become something to him, people that he kind of liked and didn’t mind being with, but they had worried about him? And so was Shane? He didn’t exactly believe that. “Worried I was using up medical supplies and not making myself useful.” He mumbles, figuring that’s what Carl had meant.

Carl’s hand tightens on his, getting his attention again. The kid doesn’t look mad at him which is always good, he just gives a small smile before continuing. “He’s not like that Daryl, Shane’s a great guy.” Daryl gives a small huff of disbelief, but Carl just carries on explaining it to him. “You know he saved me and my mom and got us out of Atlanta even though he didn’t have to. He tried to save my dad when he was in a coma in the hospital, he didn’t give up on him at all, not until he thought he was dead. Shane’s a good guy, he really is, things are just tougher now.”

Well sure things were tougher now, the walkers had made it that way. But it kind of did make sense. Sometimes stressful things made people harder, it made them more likely to snap and act angry at you when they were just angry with themselves. Chewing on his lower lip he can remember a time when Merle was nicer to him, before the drugs and the drink, before his big brother had ever even been to prison or gotten in trouble with the cops. Before dad got really bad, Merle had been happier, he’d been nicer, he hadn’t been so likely to snap and yell over every little thing. Maybe it was just like that with Shane now and the walkers had made him worse like their dad had made Merle worse?

It could be like that and he supposes he can’t really blame Shane for that. The walkers had scared him at first, but he knew he sometimes reacted different to things than other adults. Shane must just be angry with the walkers instead. Alright, Carl had known the other man longer anyway, Daryl figured he could trust him. Giving a small shrug and lopsided smile he can’t help but admit to the kid; “He still scares me though.”

Carl gives a laugh, a real one with a real smile and Daryl’s not sure if the kid believes him or not. Still it’s nice to get to just be himself around someone else, and Carl doesn’t give him weird looks or tell him he’s an idiot and walk away. He likes the kid, he’s fun and smart and didn’t think him a waste of space. So he relaxes a little, he doesn’t hold himself so tense and it’s been a while since he hasn’t felt as on edge as normal.

“Well my mom says Hershel might let us stay here on the farm, maybe if we do and things stay safer and we find Sophia, Shane won’t be so stressed out anymore.” Carl continues, kicking his feet against the floor and leaning back. “Maybe then he won’t be so scary.”

“We’re gonna stay on the farm?” He asks, because no one tells him anything much anyway, they especially don’t ask his opinion. But that could be pretty cool, he likes it here, it’s near the woods, there’s good hunting, they’ve got food and water and maybe the Greene’s would even let them join them inside the big house. “I’ve never really been on a farm before. Do you think the Greene’s will teach us how to be farmers?” He knows he sounds excited, he can feel himself bounce a little in his seat, but Carl doesn’t even look at him the littlest bit like he’s a weirdo.

“Maybe.” And Carl sits up with a look on his face, grinning to him and looking like Merle when he had a bad idea. Still it’s intriguing and even though there’s a gut feeling of uncertainty, there’s also excitement and the want to not disappoint this kid. “You wanna go explore the farm? If we’re gonna stay here then we should get to know the place a bit better.”

Well that’s true. They weren’t going to be very good at protecting the place if they didn’t know where everything was. Sure they knew the basics, but farms were huge places and there was still plenty they had left to explore. Still he didn’t want to go doing something stupid and getting yelled at. “Your mom ain’t gonna yell at me if you ain’t resting is she?” He asks, holding a hand to his own side when it aches and remembering that Carl had been through much worse than him.

The kid doesn’t even seem bothered, he’s already standing up and glancing to the open doorway of the tent, ready to go and explore. “I’ll protect you if she does, tell her I made you come along.” Carl shrugs, there’s a sense of confidence within him and though he’s a little unsure about it all, Daryl finds himself not wanting to let him down. It’s like Carl’s confidence is contagious, infecting him and making him want to do as he says, not wanting to be the damper on his fun. “Now come on Daryl, walking isn’t going to hurt us and you’ve got your gun if there’s any walkers.”

That was true, and besides so long as they didn’t leave the perimeter of the farm no one could get mad at them surely? Plus even if he couldn’t use his bow he had his knife, and his gun like Carl had said and walkers weren’t going to get close to them anyway. There wasn’t a real reason for them not to go and explore and besides, resting was boring. “Alright fine, but I’m blaming you if we get yelled at.” Daryl gets to his feet, making sure to tuck the gun in the back of his pants and check on his knife.

Carl grins, poking his head out of the tent before looking back to him with a cheeky smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t let Shane yell at you.” The kid tells him before ducking out of the tent, Daryl following him intently and glancing around to make sure that no one saw them leave. Sure there was nothing wrong with them going for a walk, but still they didn’t need the unwanted attention right now.

Everyone would start worrying unnecessarily anyway and he didn’t need to cause anymore hassle than he already had. Besides, he and Carl would be back in no time, they just wanted to explore and get to know the farm that might turn out to be their permanent home. So he makes sure to keep it quiet as they head towards the fields surrounding the Greene farm, grinning a little when the two of them make it away from everyone without being noticed.

It’s fun to spend time with Carl, the kid doesn’t give him weird looks at all and just joins in when he’s having fun. They feed grass to the cows together, the pair of them mooing to get them to come closer and unable to stop laughing when soon enough most of the herd is against the fence and looking at them curiously. Daryl reaches out to pet them happily, enjoying the warmth of their fur beneath his palms and the way Carl looks to him for permission before reaching out to touch for himself. The cows are docile as ever, prey animals through and through and dumb as hell as they eat the long grass held out to them lazily. There’s no fear within them, they don’t worry about walkers or where their next meal was coming from, they were jus content to simply be cows.

One of them misses the grass and begins licking at Carl’s fingers, causing the kid to squeal a little at the sensation and getting Daryl laughing at his reaction. This kid really wasn’t used to the country life and maybe Daryl hadn’t been on a farm before, but he knew cows couldn’t hurt you. Having his hand covered in green drool from the cow seems to persuade Carl to move on and the two of them trail around the fences, watching the herd, running sticks along the fences and just enjoying the fresh air together.

When his side twinges in pain a little Daryl slows his pace, noting that Carl copies him without making a big deal about it and doesn’t keep going on and on about it. He likes that, most adults get worried too easy and keep asking how he’s doing. Ignoring the pain made it easier to cope with, and Daryl is pleased to continue hanging out with Carl, getting to spend time with the kid was actually kind of fun. The two of them are inside the stables, petting the horses and feeding them handfuls of hay when Carl surprises him a little.

“You’re not like the other adults Daryl.” The kid says with a loose shrug, that silly sheriff’’s hat on his head bobbing a little with the movement. Daryl lowers his gaze to the floor, knowing what was coming and hating that people always somehow knew something was wrong with him. Yet Carl manages to surprise him again. “I mean that in a good way. You don’t treat me any different because of my age, you don’t talk down to me or tell me I wouldn’t understand grown up conversations like everyone else does.” Carl is grinning, looking up to him and not looking worried or sympathetic at all. “It’s pretty cool.”

Chewing on his lip a little he shakes his head, knowing that that wasn’t true at all. Still Carl didn’t seem to mind that he was different, he didn’t care that he was scared of Shane or that he didn’t always understand everything. “It’s not…I’m not cool.” He tries to explain, feeling like he was lying to Carl if he didn’t know the truth.

“Yeah you are, you’re the only person that doesn’t lie to me or tell me everything’s going to be okay.” Carl continues, turning to him fully and meeting his eyes. “I’m not stupid, I know that things are different now and we have to be strong, but I can’t be strong if everyone keeps lying to me.”

The thing is, Daryl can understand where Carl is coming from, but he also knew that it wasn’t his place to disagree. He wasn’t Carl’s parent, or his guardian or anything, he was just some guy that happened to be here now, he didn’t have no right to pick at how the kid was being raised. But he knew that sometimes lies didn’t help, even if they seemed to help at the time, they only made things harder when the truth eventually came out. Sighing a little he sits on a bale of hay, picking at the loose straw as he tries to help the kid out.

“Carl…it ain’t like that.” Because he knows that no one ever means to hurt anyone when they lie, “They just want to protect you.”

“Did your brother ever lie to you to protect you?” Carl asks accusingly, sitting opposite him and waiting for an answer with folded arms.

Hanging his head Daryl remembers all the times that Merle had just been ‘hanging out with friends’, or ‘going to visit someone’ for a while. Lies, all of them lies to stop him from getting upset whenever Merle went to prison, those lies had stopped when he was older, when there was no hiding that Merle wasn’t always a good person. “Sometimes.” He admits, scuffing his boots against the floor a little. “But Merle…he always made sure I knew the truth when it was important. Even if I didn’t understand it very well. He’d explain it for me usually.”

Carl sighs, leaning back and watching Daryl. “I just wish the rest of the adults would treat me like you do.” He muses, and Daryl feels himself flush a little at being thought of as somehow better than the others. He really wasn’t but sometimes it was nice to have someone think he was worth something. “You know my mom wouldn’t even tell me what a blow job was?”

He laughs at that, holding his side where it hurts as he laughs and shaking his head when Carl grins to him. “I ain’t tellin’ you that!”

“Why not?” The kid tries to wheedle, leaning closer and looking interested now. As if he was somehow going to get what he wanted from Daryl since he was the most honest adult he knew.

Well he may not mind telling Carl about walkers and helping him learn how to shoot sometime with his bow, but he certainly was not going to be having a conversation about blowjobs with him. “Cause that really is grown up shit.” He smirks, because he may not know everything, but he knew that much and he knew he really didn’t want to talk about that stuff with Carl.

It would be too weird, and gross and wrong. Stuff like that was for adults and Carl was most certainly not an adult. Carl makes a noise of annoyance, grabbing a handful of hay from the bale he’s on and tossing it in Daryl’s direction. “You’re not fun.” The kid teases, but he’s smiling, laughing a little and Daryl can’t help but join in. Grabbing his own handful of hay he tosses it back over the kid, reaching out to knock aside his hat and ruffle hay into his hair.

Carl shrieks again, the same noise he’d made when the cow licked him, and it makes Daryl laugh. The pain is his side is bearable as they fight with the hay, throwing it at each other, laughing and smiling as it gets caught in clothing and itches over their skin. It’s fun and for just a moment Daryl is able to forget the pain in his side, the lost little girl and the death that waits for them outside of the farm, for a second he’s just having fun.

“Carl! Daryl!”


	5. Opposites

The stable doors creak open, the horses all flick their ears in the direction of the newcomers and in a second Daryl is trying to brush himself free of hay and act like a responsible adult.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Shane snaps, he’s angry, he’s definitely angry and Daryl can see the way he holds himself tense, shoulders rigid and there’s that look in his eye. He looks like his father used to look sometimes and Daryl can’t help but take half a step back.

Carl doesn’t look at all bothered by their presence, scooping up his hat from the floor and dusting it free of hay before placing it back in place on his head. “Not much, just exploring the farm. Talking, hanging out, just guy stuff.” He explains and Daryl nods along with the explanation, hoping it’ll be enough, hoping that maybe Carl knows what answers to give the angry man.

Rick grins a little, reaching out with one hand to pluck a stray piece of straw from Carl’s shoulder. “Oh just guy stuff huh?” the ex-cop doesn’t look mad, he just looks surprised, hands now on his hips as he looks them both over. “Doesn’t guy stuff include resting like you’re supposed to be doing?” Rick asks and Daryl can’t help but lower his gaze to the floor. Right now he’s not sure he could find the words to explain, especially not the right words needed to fix the situation. Fortunately Carl seems to understand his father’s moods better and easily replies.

“We were just walking dad, I’m not hurting and we took a rest when Daryl needed one.” Daryl shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling his side ache a little since he’s feeling more tense and worried right now. “We’re fine, it was boring sitting in a tent and we were going crazy, that’s all.” Carl smiles and for a second Daryl’s hopeful that maybe everything is fine, Rick is shaking his head with a smile, Carl is grinning and maybe they really hadn’t done anything wrong at all?

“Not good enough.” Shane snaps, stepping forward, tall and imposing with a finger pointing to Carl. “If Hershel says you’re supposed to be resting then you’re supposed to be resting. What you thought you’d just head around the farm without telling anyone where you were going?” Shane asks Carl and whatever fear Daryl feels turns into a tiny bit of annoyance that Shane is picking on the boy. Carl didn’t deserve to be yelled at, it wasn’t his fault that resting was so boring.

“Wasn’t doin’ anything dangerous.” He mutters and in a second whatever bravado he’d mustered up to speak up in Carls defence fades immediately, leaving him flushing a little as he returns his gaze to the floor. “Besides, had my gun.” Daryl mumbles, feeling the reassuring weight of the metal piece at his lower back, but still feeling uncomfortable and on edge despite having the weapon.

As soon as Shane turns on him Daryl wishes he’d never opened his mouth. Shane is loud, he’s broad and intense, stepping closer and not worried about getting in his personal space. It makes him stumble back a little and clutch his side, feeling the stitches pull a little uncomfortably. “Hey don’t you start.” Shane growls, licking at his lips before continuing, prodding that damned finger in Daryl’s face. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one here. You shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place!”

“Shane don’t-“

“Don’t yell at him!” Carl snaps, stepping between Shane and Daryl, cutting off Rick’s attempt to smooth over the situation and shoving at Shane’s chest. “That’s not fair, Daryl was just hanging out with me and we didn’t do anything wrong. We stayed on the farm, we didn’t hurt ourselves and besides it was my idea.” Daryl is baffled when Carl continues shoving at Shane, defending him completely and not looking the least bit scared of Shane retaliating. “If Daryl hadn’t followed me then I would have been off on my own and he knows everyone hates that so he came with me.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence between them all, Daryl can’t stop fidgeting, uneasy at being the focus of the conversation. He can see that Rick wants to say something, probably to scold Carl for shouting, Carl is breathing heavily and still looking determined whereas Shane just looks a mix of stunned and pissed off. Daryl watches as Shane licks his lips again, reaching to rub at the back of his head before he speaks, no longer shouting, but still clearly annoyed. “Still he should have known better than to-“

“No.” Carl cuts him off again, shaking his head and folding his arms. For a second he looks like a miniature cop, the sheriff’s hat on his head completing the picture. “Stop bullying him, you’re not being fair Shane.” The kid says and fuck Daryl feels damned pathetic right now. He was being defended by a kid, sure Carl was great and everything, but he was meant to be an adult, he was meant to be able to defend himself.

Rick steps closer, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder and taking a breath before he begins trying to explain. “Carl it’s not like that-“

“Yes it is!” His son is stubborn to say the least, still glaring at Shane accusingly and Daryl really doesn’t want to deal with this anymore. Let them have their little fight let them yell and then make happy families afterwards. He didn’t want to be a part of it right now.

Ignoring them all he presses a hand to his side, feeling the ache of his wound beneath the bandages and not caring if they watch as he makes his way out of the stables. He’s not exactly fast right now, his side feels like it’s burning but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to be around any of them right now. People were too confusing, he didn’t understand them and right now he didn’t need to be around them to feel just how different he was from them all.

His tent isn’t exactly a secret hiding spot, but it’s his and he knows if he leaves it closed then everyone else should get the damned message that he doesn’t need them right now. Besides they wanted him to rest? Then let him fucking rest.

The cot is small, with all the flaps closed the tent is stuffy but he doesn’t care, and honestly it’s painful to try and find a comfortable position to lie in. Still, he’s alone and right now that’s what he needs. Daryl knows he’s not the same as everyone else, it’s something that’s being made even more obvious as every single day goes by, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide. With Merle he’d get a smack around the mouth if he did something wrong, but these people were all too nice and he couldn’t get a read on them.

He kept trying to keep it all hidden, he really did but between the medication he’s been on lately, everyone being relatively nice to him and actually living with these people, he knows he’s starting to slip. Now he had Carl defending him against Shane because he’d stupidly let the kid know he was scared of the other man. He was dumb, so fucking dumb and he couldn’t stop fucking everything up. Now he can feel the tears coming and he knew that wasn’t very adult of him either.

Every part of him wishes that Merle were here, his big brother would know what to do. Merle would make him feel better, he’d get these people to back off and make sure he remembered how to act around them all. Or maybe it would be even better and Merle would take him away so it could be just the two of them like he’d always promised. He missed him, he missed him so much and he didn’t have anyone now. The only person he’d ever had was Merle, all these other people had each other, their families and friends and here he was stuck on the edge like someone desperate to fit in.

The loneliness is consuming right now, wrapping around him until he can only choke on his tears and hiccup on sobs. He feels pathetic, he knows its wrong, he knows adults didn’t break into tears when they felt lonely, but he can’t help it. It’s just what makes him feel better and he tries not to think about it too hard as he shoves an arm beneath the cot to hunt out what he wants. It’s stupid. It’s pathetic but right now he’s a mix of ashamed and uncaring as he pulls out one of Merle’s old shirts and buries his face in it.

It’s pathetic and if his brother were here he’d be calling him a baby right now, but he’d give just about anything to hear him yell at him again. This was all too fucking hard without Merle here to help and he’s so fucking lost with how to deal with it all. These people were pushing their way into his life, into places he’d never let other people in before and he was finding himself not exactly hating the thought. He liked when Carol stroked his hair, he’d liked when Carl had thought he was cool and he’d liked when Rick had held his hand and little and not yelled at him for sucking his thumb. It was nice, it was nice to be able to be like that around them.

But Merle had always told him to hide that away and yet here he was, letting it show ever so little and no one was screaming at him or calling him a retard. They even maybe seemed a little nice about it, Hershel had even tucked him in and not given him any of that doctor mumbo jumbo about it all. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to just be himself, maybe just a little bit?

It’s too hard. His side hurts, his chest hurts from the sobs and he can barely breathe from where he’s pressed his face so hard into the fabric of Merle’s shirt that it hurts. He didn’t want to think about it all right now. Instead he lets himself just hold Merle’s shirt tighter, slipping a thumb into his mouth and trying to get some rest to heal the stupid hole in his side.

The next day he feels a little better and checking on the wound he finds it’s holding up pretty well. Hershel definitely knew how to do better stitches than his usually half assed jobs. Checking it was clean he recovers it, tugging his shirt closed before facing the tent opening and the world that lay beyond it. Everyone had left him alone thankfully, but he knew they’d be out there today, ready to ask more questions of him. Shane would most likely still be mad and probably even madder since he’d run away from a confrontation. He didn’t want to deal with that, but maybe there was a way to fix it.

He ends up finding his solution in Rick.

At first he goes to apologise to him, wanting to explain the situation with Carl yesterday and make sure the man knew he wasn’t going to let any harm come to his son. But Rick had shaken him off, telling him not to apologise since there was no reason to. He doesn’t know if he’s right, but when Rick meets his eyes there’s a show of trust there, as well as maybe a glimmer of understanding too. When Rick reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder the cop pauses, waiting for the flinch he just can’t help before continuing and pressing against his shoulder in a way he’d seen him do with Shane.

“I know Carl was safe with you Daryl, and I know you wouldn’t do anything to put him in danger.” Rick tells him with a smile, kind and gentle, never pushing or mean. He can’t help but feel comfortable around the other man, it’s like Rick just knew how to talk to him. “Shane is just a little reactive these days. He didn’t mean anything by what he said.”

Daryl shrugs a little at that, knowing it’s not his place to complain when really he’d been expecting to be yelled at. He shouldn’t have really been with Carl without letting someone know where they were going. Even if Rick thought it was fine. “Sure.” He agrees, even if he knows Shane had something against him.

“I talked to him yesterday about…” Rick pauses, hands on his hips and looking him over. Daryl can see what he wants to say. He can see that Rick wants to somehow put what he and Hershel knew about him into words. It makes him flush a little and lift his thumb to chew on it nervously. “About you.” Rick finishes, and it doesn’t make Daryl feel much better. “He’s not very good at letting new people in, especially ones he doesn’t know very well. Maybe if he got to know you better he wouldn’t be so likely to blame you for everything.”

He doesn’t want to spend time with Shane or get to know him better. Right now even thinking of Shane makes his stomach feel uncomfortable, so the thought of talking to him really felt like pushing it too far, but if Rick thought it was for the best then maybe he should give it a go. Rick always seemed to know what to do. “You think it would help?” He asks, mumbling round his thumb and noting that Rick doesn’t tell him to stop the habit.

“I don’t think it would hurt if you gave it a try.” Rick shrugs, still looking calm and happy, pleased to be with him and talking to him. It makes him feel a little better. “Besides I think Carl made it pretty clear to him yesterday that he needs to fix his behaviour. If we end up staying here we want everyone to get along don’t we?” He asks and Daryl finds himself chewing a little harder on his thumb.

Glancing over to the group’s campsite he presses his free hand over his side, feeling the roughness of the bandages there and itching them a little. Everyone sits together, eating through breakfast as a group, all seeming at ease with one another like their own mini family. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, he’s just not sure where he would fit in to it all with them. But he knows that he doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to be on his own so he has to at least try to make this work. “I guess so.” And if Rick thinks he should try to fix things with Shane then maybe he should “I could give it a try.”

And there’s that smile again, the kind one that makes him smile back and feel better inside. Even through the nerves having Rick look at him like that, with trust and maybe friendship, makes him feel better. “Thanks Daryl, I appreciate it.” He believes him, he wants Rick to appreciate the things he does.

So he spends the start of the morning with Rick, not wandering too far from him and helping when it comes to preparing the breakfast for everyone. They don’t talk about much in particular, though he does question the search for Sophia and if they had anymore leads to go on. When he hears they had nothing he drops the topic, instead focussing on dishing up the meal and handing out the plates to everyone. With Rick’s encouragement he passes one to Shane, getting a nod of thanks in return and managing a small smile to the other man.

When Shane smiles back he feels the knot of worry ease a little and moves to sit beside him with his own plate, trying to act as relaxed as possible when Glenn steps up in front of all of them.

“Guys? There are walkers in the barn.”


	6. Bedtime

It’s like whatever calm that had been lingering over them all suddenly evaporates and the group is alive with worry and fear all over again. It’s like at the CDC all over again and Daryl hates that suddenly he’s feeling very lost about what to do. The whole day is tense and uncomfortable, leaving him on edge and unsure exactly how to interact with anyone. Andrea has her gun in her hands at all times, she and T-Dog spend their time patrolling around the barn and checking on the locks, making sure the walkers aren’t going to get out anytime soon.

He wants to follow around Rick and stay with him, usually that made him feel a little better since Rick was always so in control and calm, but right now Rick is too busy. Their leader is clearly distressed, and he’s spending far too much time in the house talking to Hershel and the Greenes about everything. It leaves him questioning what he can do to help. Right now he still can’t wield his bow properly, it aches to walk for too long and really he feels pretty damned useless.

Shane is angry again. That makes things worse and he watches as the ex cop stalks around like an angry animal, pacing around the farm and constantly asking questions of Rick and demanding everyone to keep an eye on the barn. He doesn’t want to bother him if he doesn’t have to, but Rick had told him to try and get along with him and maybe he could find a way to help out? Taking a deep breath he heads over to the RV, following Shane inside and trying to hide his nerves that it’s just he and Shane inside the vehicle.

For a moment he watches Shane check around the RV, standing awkwardly in the doorway and pressing a hand to his side to quell the ache there. Shane still looks pissed as he searches for something, getting more and more worked up, running his hand over his head with an angry sigh. Ignoring the worry Daryl steps forward, reaching out to tug at the back of Shane’s shirt to catch his attention. “Shane?” The other man spins to face him, face creased in anger but he can see that he at least tries to calm down when he realises it’s him. “What can I do to help?” He asks.

There’s a moment where Shane just looks at him before giving a small laugh. But it’s not a mean laugh, at least it doesn’t feel like one to him, it’s more just a chuckle of discomfort or something. Still he can’t help but lift his thumb to his mouth, nibbling on his nail as he waits for Shane to answer him. He feels awkward and lost, but if Rick wasn’t available to give him an answer then maybe Shane would be willing and able to help him.

“You want to help man?” Shane asks and Daryl of course nods in return, eager to be useful somehow.

Giving a small shrug he continues chewing on his nail, trying to explain himself to the other man. “Can’t go look for Sophia, I need to do something to help.” He mutters, gesturing to his side and where his wound still aches every so often.

“Sophia?” And Shane has that angry voice again, the one that makes Daryl take half a step back and divert his gaze to the floor. “Daryl you knows she’s…” Shane pauses, licks at his lips and looks him over, running a hand over the back of his head again and looking a mix of upset and exasperated. When he does continue his voice is different, it’s softer, quieter, the kind of voice Daryl’s heard him use with Carl before. “Alright you wanna help? Here’s what you can do. I’ve got to go and find Dale, so with Rick helping Hershel that means someone has got to protect this place. T-Dog and Andrea have the barn under wraps, so you need to keep an eye on Lori, Carol and Carl for me alright?”

He could do that. So long as he could keep them here and safe he’d be doing a good job and that didn’t require a lot of moving either so it shouldn’t hurt. Nodding along he steels himself, dropping his thumb from his mouth and trying to act confident. “I’ll look after them.” He’s certain he could do that until Shane got back.

“Great, I won’t be long, just need to sort out a few things with Dale and then we’ll be able to deal with the barn problem.” Shane says, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, but it’s only a little this time and he relaxes a little quicker when Shane smiles to him. “Least I know they’re in safe hands with you looking after them.”

That makes him blush a little, and he can’t quite find the words to tell Shane that he appreciates it. Instead he shares a nod with the man, leaving the RV and checking on his gun in the back of his belt before going over to where Lori and Carl are having another one of their mock school lessons. Carol is folding laundry and chatting to Lori as she works, and Daryl makes his way over to sit with them. He doesn’t usually come over when Carl’s supposed to be learning, he remembers getting yelled at for getting distracted in school and doesn’t want to be a nuisance for the boy. But right now he needs to stay with them and keep them safe.

Sitting beside Carl on the ground he doubles checks his gun, nodding to them in greeting and watching as Shane leaves the RV and heads into the woods surrounding them. Things are definitely more stressful toady, so he’s grateful when Carl talks to him for a while, not asking much of him at all and letting the knot of worries ease a little. They watch as Rick and Hershel leave the farm with Jimmy, they’ve got some kind of poles with them and Daryl wonders if he should ask, but Rick raises a hand in their direction, easing them all to stay where they were and he didn’t want to disobey.

The time passes on, Daryl plucks at the grass beneath him and listens to Carl telling him about all the video games he’d never get to play. It kind of feels a little normal to be honest, with Carol and Lori talking about adult worries above them as he listens to Carl talk about all the things his family could never afford. When he was younger this was how he found out about these things, by listening to the neighbour kids chat and share what they did have. Even after the end of the world things hadn’t changed for him much.

When Shane comes storming out of the woods with their bag of guns Daryl gets to his feet, questions running through his mind as he goes to meet the other man. A part of him wants to point out that everyone he’d been told to protect was safe, but then he catches the looks in the man’s eyes and suddenly doesn’t want to annoy him at all. Instead he finds Carl beside him, questioning the other man and jogging to keep up with him.

Lori and Carol follow and he does the same, holding his side as they head towards the barn, Shane shouting things to the others, handing T-Dog a shotgun, calling for Andrea to get her own ready and Daryl finds himself completely lost in the chaos. Shane drops the gun bag to the ground, pulling out another shotgun and when it’s held out for him to take, Daryl hesitates for a second, looking up to the other man for answers.

“Daryl, we have to protect everyone right?” Shane asks him, meeting his eye and the honestly and pleading there makes Daryl bite his lip. There’s yelling from behind him, distracting him for the moment and then there’s Rick, dragging over a walker with a snare pole with Hershel and Jimmy doing the same. He doesn’t understand what they’re doing, but Rick is yelling for Shane to stop and he’s really not sure what he should do. “Daryl?” Shane catches his attention again, pressing the gun into his hands and he tries so hard to listen and understand. “There are walkers in the barn Daryl, if we want to protect everyone then we need to get rid of them.”

He remembers Merle teaching him his first lesson about walkers. He remembers having to take it down, needing to stop it before it hurt Merle and killed him. They were more important than walkers, walkers were bad and sometimes for them to live they had to kill to survive. He didn’t want anything to happen to the members of the group either and walkers in the barn would be dangerous to keep around. What if someone else got bit because they didn’t get rid of them now? Sometimes you had to do things you didn’t want to do to survive and right now he knew which was the right option to choose.

Taking the shotgun from Shane he cocks it, checking the ammo is in place and setting it into place in his hands. He can’t look at Rick right now, not when the man is still yelling for them to stop and Shane is busy unboarding the barn in front of them. Carol, Lori and Carl are behind him, safe from both the walkers and the line of fire, so at least he’s still doing that job right. Standing firm he keeps his eyes on the doors, not wanting to let the possible threats out of his sight. He’s ready for this. Walkers were bad. They were infected, they were dead and they needed to be killed for them to survive.

Shane is yelling at Rick and Hershel, he can hear Lori pleading with him to stop and it’s all so loud and there’s too much shouting around him. Still he remains firm, remembering his job, protect Lori, Carol and Carl. He could do that, he’d promised Shane he would do that. So he tries to ignore the shouting, he stops listening to Shane yelling at Hershel and focuses on his job.

There’s gunfire, more yelling and then finally, finally the barn is opened and the walkers pour out. He can deal with walkers. Daryl still doesn’t enjoy it, he doesn’t think he ever will because no matter what they were now, they were people once. Still he takes them down, reloading when he needs to and doing what he’s meant to do. Protecting the group and the farm from walkers and from getting hurt. He makes sure to use headshots, putting them out of their misery, not letting them suffer and letting them sleep properly again. Blood spattered over the floor, the walkers growl before falling silent and before long there are bodies littering the ground before them.

Now the job is done he doesn’t feel any better for it, but he makes sure to check over his shoulder to see Lori holding Carl close and Carol wrapping her arms about herself. They’re safe and that was all that mattered. They don’t look pleased though, in fact no one looks happy about what they’d had to do and he hates that Hershel is in tears. Lifting his thumb to his mouth he lets the shotgun drop to his side, holding it there as he chews on his nail, letting the questions run through him when there’s a sudden gasp from everyone.

Everyone is staring at the barn and when he turns to see what they’re all looking at, his heart drops to his stomach.

She looks really small. Smaller than he remembers, but maybe he’s just not remembering right. Her skin is a horrible colour, she’s pale and staggering out of the shadows of the barn, making those horrible noises and reaching out her arms. She doesn’t look right. It’s not right at all and he doesn’t like it.

Sophia was a walker.

Daryl can’t help but take a step back as she moves closer to them all, growling and snarling, making noises that shouldn’t come from a little girl. Her mouth is open, bared teeth that are covered in blood, her hands are mottled and covered in dirt, she looks so wrong, so unlike the little girl that had pulled faces at him in the CDC. He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it at all and the knot of worry and upset in his stomach tightens to an unbearable level. The gun drops from his fingers, falling by his side to the dirt with a clatter, but empty of ammo and no longer of any use to anyone.

Around him people are moving, he can hear crying and begging, Andrea moves to grab at Carol behind him, Lori has Carl in her grip and Daryl has never felt more alone than in this moment. He wishes Merle were here.

Before him Sophia edges closer, her feet get caught on the already fallen walkers, she stumbles and growls and as she gets nearer he can see the lack of colour in her eyes. She looks so wrong it hurts and there’s a pain in his chest as he watches her get nearer to their firing line. He can’t take his eyes off of her, the way she stumbles and growls, her fingers reaching out, her mouth open and hair tangled into a matted mess on the side of her head. This wasn’t the same girl, it couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t be Sophia.

There’s more movement, Shane hangs his head and then Rick is moving forwards with a fast pace, purpose in his step and it’s not until the other man draws his weapon that Daryl realises what he’s about to do. He wants to yell at him to stop. To beg for Rick to find another way to fix this and make it all better, but he remembers Merle’s lessons, he remembers about the deer suffering and he knows that if there’s one person in the world he doesn’t want to suffer; it’s Sophia. It doesn’t make his tummy feel any better though.

He doesn’t want to watch, he doesn’t want to be here, he wants to be at home, with Merle and where everything made sense.

Rick raises his gun, Sophia growls at him and stretches out her arms. Daryl can’t help the hiccup in his chest, nor the way he squeezes his eyes shut and has to cover his ears with his hands. He remembers when he was little, playing games with Merle and thinking he could win at hide and seek if he stayed like this. Because if you couldn’t see it, and couldn’t hear it, then maybe it never happened anyway.

The gunshot echoes so loudly in the air around him that he more feels it than hears it.

Daryl doesn’t want to move, there’s more moving around him, people getting up, he can feel someone running away, even through his hands he can hear people shrieking and crying. It’s not fair. He didn’t understand why Sophia had to die. Sure sometimes that had to kill to live, Merle had made sure he knew that they were more important, but that didn’t mean Sophia wasn’t important too. She shouldn’t have died, it wasn’t fair.

Someone reaches out and touches his shoulder, making him flinch and stumble back, finally opening his eyes to find Shane looking him over. The other man looks worried, his face not scrunched up in anger, but instead open and calm, something he doesn’t often see on Shane’s face. But he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to look behind the other man and see Sophia’s body on the ground in the dirt.

So he turns and he runs, uncaring of anyone else, not listening as they call for him to stop and just continuing running away from it all. His side hurts, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to stop, he never wants to stop running away from it all until he managed to get home to where things made sense. The farm isn’t large enough to stop him from reaching the trees, his legs aching as he runs over the familiar ground, losing himself between the trees and going deeper into the woods. When he was younger this was how he survived, by bolting, by leaving it all behind him and going somewhere that no one could hurt him anymore.

The leaves crunch underfoot, around him birds flee from their roosts and he’s left completely alone as he finally runs out of energy and slumps to the floor. The ground is hard beneath him, dirt hardened over the years and digging into him as his body crumples, everything of the last few days, weeks, months, overwhelming him in one go. Daryl’s sobs are loud and heavy, harsh and burning through his chest as he hiccups and cries through it all.

He was all alone. Merle was gone forever, he was stuck with people he didn’t know, people that didn’t understand him, people that he wasn’t sure he should trust at all. He couldn’t go home, he didn’t know what to do, or where to go and no one was here to help him. Tangling his fingers in his hair he howls to himself, body hunched into a ball on the ground, sobs wracking through him as the upset and grief seep from him. He feels sick, he feels alone, he feels lost and tiny and broken in a world that didn’t make any sense.

Yanking at his hair until it hurts he can’t help the choked sobs that run through him, wailing loudly to the trees above and letting his feet kick at the ground. It hurts inside, it hurts outside and he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. Merle would know, but Merle wasn’t here and Merle couldn’t fix it if he wasn’t here anymore. Screaming to himself he hates the pain in his side from the wound and the ache in his chest over everything that had happened. He didn’t ask for this, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!

“Daryl?”

“No!” He screams, feeling his chest hurt as he sobs, tears running down his face as it aches inside of him. Breathing is hard, it catches in his throat, it makes his head ache and he can’t help but wretch as it all becomes too much. Pulling on his hair harder he kicks at the ground, wanting it all to just stop, wanting everything to stop and just stop hurting him anymore.

Hands reach out to him, someone is next to him in the dirt and holding him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders and sitting him up even when he doesn’t want to. “Daryl?” They talk to him, their voice smooth and calming, even and a complete contrast to his still hitching breaths and retching. Fingers stroke over his arms, there’s the warm weight of another person behind him and he tries so hard to listen to them as they speak. “Daryl you need to calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

He knows he is, whenever he gets this upset and worked up his body starts hurting all over, tensing over his stomach and making his chest tight and causing him to gag and want puke it all out of him. They hush him, holding him close, sitting on the ground with him and letting him cry himself hoarse. It helps a little to have someone there with him, and it gives him something to latch onto when he feels so alone and lost.

It’s almost like he remembers his mom, when she would hold him close when he was smaller and rock him from side to side until his head wasn’t so full of questions and upset. Closing his eyes he lets his body sag into theirs, the franticness of his emotions beginning to calm down simply through exhaustion. Sometimes Merle would do this for him, keeping him safe and calm, not able to hurt himself when he’s held like this, letting him work through it all until he can breathe again.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” And when he can finally breathe again and hear the rest of the world through his sobs, he realises its Rick who is holding him. The other man keeps him in his lap, the pair of them sitting on the ground together as Rick rocks them gently side to side. “Calm down, it’s okay, calm down.” Rick mutters in his ear and Daryl tries his best to listen and do as he’s told.

Leaning further into the other man’s embrace helps, and though Daryl knows he’s not supposed to, he remembers that Rick hadn’t yelled at him before when he was injured. Latching the fingers of his free hand into Rick’s shirt he stays close, holding on to him as he brings his free hand up to suck on his thumb. Every so often his body gives a shudder along with a sob, making him whine and curl closer into Rick’s chest.

“Take deep breaths for me.” Rick asks him and he tries his best, shivering a little as things slowly become easier to cope with. He still feels shaky and lost, but Rick is here, stroking fingers through his hair and keeping him close and safe. “There we go, good job. Just calm down, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay Daryl.” Rick soothes him, and from where he sits in the other man’s lap he can feel his heartbeat against his back, strong and steady, real and something to focus on.

They sit for a while, just the two of them in silence as the world continues around them. He can hear the birds in the trees, and the wind in the leaves, and when he feels a little more stable and able to cope he finally opens his eyes enough to peer up at Rick. Sniffing back more tears he rubs at his face, feeling stupid for acting like such a baby, but unable to stop himself when sometimes it helped. Rick doesn’t force him to stop, or even laugh or anything, instead he just continues holding him, rocking a little from side to side. It helps and though things are still bad, he doesn’t want to scream anymore.

“Sophia…” He manages to mumble around his thumb, his voice is quiet but he knows that Rick hears him when the arms around him tighten a little.

“I know.” Rick sounds so sad, but he’s not angry, even though Daryl knows he should be angry with him. “I know.”

Shaking his head a little he knows that Rick doesn’t understand and he should explain, he should make sure he know that it was his fault. “It’s my fault.” He mutters, sitting up enough to face Rick and wiping at the tears left on his cheeks. Being away from the other man’s heat makes him shiver a little, but he doesn’t deserve such kindness when this was all his fault. “I couldn’t find her. She was all alone and I couldn’t find her.”

Rick shakes his head again, hands on Daryl’s upper arms and holding him just tight enough to keep him in place, but not enough to hurt. “I know, but it’s not your fault.” The other man tells him and his voice is that same smooth tone he uses when talking to Carl, when things were complicated and difficult to understand. It helps, sometimes he needs things explained for him, and it was nice that Rick was trying for him. “It’s no one’s fault Daryl. The world is not a good place anymore, sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

He knew that. But he’d tried so hard for Sophia. “I wanted her to be alright.” He mumbles around his thumb, leaning back to rest his head on Rick’s shoulder, finding the closeness comforting. “I wanted to find her and give her back her dolly.” He admits, remembering how much better it felt when he was curled up with Merle’s shirt and how guilty he’d felt for finding her doll and taking it away from her. Had she been scared without her doll?

“I know, I know you did and you tried so hard.” Rick doesn’t push him away, he just holds him close again, stroking through his hair and it helps, it really does. “You did everything you could to try and help her Daryl, but it wasn’t meant to be. Sometimes it’s not fair, and I know it’s hard to understand, but it’s not your fault. If nothing else, you have to understand that.” Rick explains it all slowly, calmly and easily, his voice is gentle and it reminds him a little of when he was younger and Merle would explain everything to him. That helps a lot.

It still hurts inside of him, like the dull ache of the wound on his side, he just hopes that it’s eventually going to get better. “It’s not fair.” He concludes, sucking on his thumb, letting it slur his words a little when he speaks.

Rick nods in agreement, patting his back a little as they remain sitting on the ground together. Daryl feels calmer, he doesn’t want to scream anymore, even if the ache inside of him still hurts. Everything is still confusing around him, he wishes Merle were here, he wishes Sophia was still alive and he really wishes he could understand it all easier. But at least he had Rick right now, helping him as much as he could through all of this.

It really was helping. A lot.

By the time they return back to the farm, it’s getting late, the sun is falling in the sky and Daryl’s tears have long stopped, even if his thumb is still in his mouth. Rick hadn’t yelled at him the entire time they were away from the others, in fact he’d been nothing but caring, looking after him and talking him through all the pain and uncertainty. Group members watch them as they return, Dale waves from the RV, and Daryl finds himself shrinking back a little when some others come over to greet them.

Lori and Carl immediately embrace Rick, he can see that the kid has been crying and he knows he must be just as upset about Sophia as he himself was. The thing that really surprises him is when Shane approaches him, not looking angry, just looking worried as he moves to check him over, and Daryl realises he’s looking for any injuries. “I’m fine.” He mumbles around his thumb, not exactly minding having Shane try to help him, but just unsure if maybe the touches would turn to hits soon enough.

“I’m so sorry.” Shane murmurs to him, and Daryl doesn’t know why he’s apologising to him of all people. “I didn’t know she was in there. I just wanted to keep everyone safe, I didn’t want you to see her like that Daryl.” Shane looks really sad, he’s licking at his lips like he’s uncomfortable and Daryl’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do. He wants to help, he doesn’t want anyone feeling like he did before, and he doesn’t think Shane would be able to keep his anger and upset to himself either.

Reaching out he pats at Shane’s arm gently, trying to help as best he can and explain it to him like Rick had earlier. “It’s not your fault.” He shrugs, petting at Shane’s arm a little to try and calm him down. “Sometimes bad things happen and there’s nothing you can do about it.” It’s quietly spoken, and he’s sure only Shane hears him, but it seems to be enough, because the other man meets his eye before nodding a little in return.

“Come on, we waited for you to get back so you could say goodbye.” Shane tells them both and the nerves start up in Daryl’s stomach again as they begin making their way up to a field above the farm.

It’s nice and quiet, with nothing more than grass and a few wildflowers growing in clumps around the place. No livestock was nearby and even the woods merely framed the edge instead of encroaching upon the peacefulness. He likes it here and he knows Sophia would have liked it too. Still that doesn’t make it any easier when he sees the open grave before them, cold and deep, far too messy and not nice enough for Sophia. He wishes he could make it all better, but he can’t, no one can anymore and that hurts.

There’s some muttered talking around him about Carol and he finds it upsetting that Carol wasn’t here to say goodbye to her daughter. He wants to go and find her, but something inside of him tells him it’s not a good idea, not when no one else is doing it and they understood better than him. Chewing on the tip of his thumb, he can barely look when T-Dog brings over the body. It looks really small, a sheet wrapped around it, tucked in like she was just sleeping and that makes Daryl remember Merle’s lessons.

If dying was like going to sleep, then there was one thing that was missing.

Tugging on the back of Rick’s shirt, he mutters an hasty explanation into his ear, not wanting to disturb the fragile silence that has fallen over all of them as Sophia’s body is lowered into its final resting place. For a second Rick looks like he might start crying, but then he gives a nod and Daryl runs as fast as his injured side will allow him back into the RV to grab what is needed.

Panting a little he can feel everyone watching him as he approaches the site again, but now was not the time to feel embarrassed. Maybe he hadn’t been able to save Sophia, and maybe the world wasn’t fair, but if she was going to go to sleep forever then she didn’t deserve to be alone. Dropping to his knees beside the grave, he leans down to place the doll on top of the sheet wrappings, making sure to leave it face up and make sure that Sophia wasn’t going to have to be lonely.

When he backs away to rejoin the group standing beside the grave, he finds Lori crying along with Andrea and even Dale looks to be tearing up. He doesn’t want to cry, he’s done his crying and right now at least he knew he’d done one thing right. Standing besides Carl he looks down to find the kid sniffing back tears himself, gripping onto his mother’s hand tightly and looking as lost as Daryl felt sometimes.

“Don’t worry.” He finds himself telling Carl, nudging at his shoulder to get the kids attention as the dirt is placed on top of Sophia’s body, covering her up like a blanket. “She’s got her dolly, she can sleep now.” Daryl explains with a nod, and if he doesn’t understand why that makes everyone cry more, he doesn’t ask about it.


	7. All the cats

The rest of the day passes in a haze, to Daryl it feels as if everybody was tired all of a sudden. Tired with the world, tired of having to work to just survive and he can understand that. They’re all upset after the loss of Sophia, he sets a bundle of Cherokee Roses on top of the upturned earth of her grave, and though he’s still grieving in his own way, he knows that at least she’s safe and sleeping now. He doesn’t see Carol the rest of the day, that hurts, but he knows she must be hurting more than any of them.

Everyone is dulled, quiet and simply getting through the rest of the day as well as they can, some keeping watch, some preparing food or doing laundry and Rick is inside the house talking to the Greene’s again. Daryl isn’t sure exactly how to help out, so he retreats to his own tent off on the edge of the farm, staying out of the way of everyone else.

It’s quiet and peaceful out here and if he didn’t know any better he’d think there was nothing wrong with the world. But lurking just beyond the borders of their safe zone was the rest of the world and he knew that the walkers owned that. They’d already gotten Sophia, Amy, Jim, Hershel’s family too and for all he knew maybe Merle was out there wandering round and wanting to eat human flesh. It makes him shudder and he retires to his cot to sleep away the ache in his side and the upset still caught in his chest.

He doesn’t bother trying to eat, not when his side aches and the upset in his stomach makes him feel far too uneasy to even try. Instead he buries himself down in his cot as the night draws in, clutching Merle’s shirt to his cheek and letting his thumb slip between his lips as he closes his eyes. Everything is still upsetting, but right now he just doesn’t want to even think about what has happened today. Instead he focuses on healing, letting himself try to get some much needed rest.

It doesn’t happen. Nightmares wrack him through the entire night, images sparking in front of his closed eyes and making sobs catch in his throat. His chest feels tight as images of Sophia coming out of the barn haunt him, thoughts of Merle staggering towards him after being bit, with only one hand and blood around his mouth. They haunt him, groaning and snarling at him, spitting out taunts and calling him useless, Merle cursing at him for not listening, Sophia hating him for not finding her, and their broken nails dig into his arm as he screams.

Jerking awake he damned near falls off the cot, scrabbling against the floor of the tent and gasping for air. It’s not that he hasn’t had nightmares before, but before now he always had Merle there beside him. Thinking of his big brother makes him choke on his tears, sobs catching in his chest as he sits on the ground, feeling the misery overwhelm him completely. He was alone, lost and alone and surrounded by people that didn’t understand him.

Rick had said it wasn’t his fault that Sophia had gotten bit, but maybe he was just being nice to him. Rick knew about him and people that knew about his brain being broken always tried to be nice to him. Maybe he was lying, maybe Merle was right and no one was going to care about him but Merle. His big brother had always looked out for him, taking care of him and making sure he had rules to follow to help him get by. Now Merle was gone, and it was all because of him.

He should have done something. If he’d have gone to Atlanta with Merle then maybe his brother never would have gotten left behind. If he’d have been a better tracker then they would have found Sophia before she’d gone and gotten bit by a damned walker. It was his fault, he could have done something, anything, if only he weren’t too damned stupid to make the right choice.

Snatching up Merle’s old shirt he yanks it on over the top of his own clothing, needing the security of his brother’s clothing right now. If he closed his eyes and imagined real hard, it almost felt like a hug. Wrapping his own arms around himself he wipes at the tears on his cheeks, able to bury his nose into the collar of the shirt and almost feel like he was home.

But he’s not. It’s not home, it’s not safe and he’s not with anyone here that he could really trust, even if he wanted to. They didn’t understand him, not like Merle did. He’d been slack in hiding himself away recently, and it wouldn’t be long until they all started on him. It had happened before, people treated him differently once they knew, and he didn’t know if he could cope with these people doing that to him. He didn’t want them to yell and scream at him, call his names and laugh at him for not understanding the simplest of things.

Except Rick hadn’t. Even when he was screaming and crying in the dirt like a baby, Rick hadn’t laughed or called him a baby. Instead Rick had helped. He’d held him tightly, given him a hug and made him feel better, explaining things to him that he didn’t understand. It had really helped, and when Rick had run his fingers through his hair and spoken to him in that calm tone it had made him feel so much better. Rick had looked after him in the way he’d always wanted and he hadn’t laughed at him once.

Maybe Rick wouldn’t mind that he’d had a nightmare and was crying like a baby, he’d been so nice before, maybe he’d be nice now as well? Either way Daryl knew he didn’t want to stay here right now, lost and alone, separated from the group in more than just distance.

It’s dark when he steps outside of the tent, the fire is dead and as he heads towards the camp it’s mainly memory of where everything is that stops him from tripping over something. Still the tents are all closed, the RV lights are off and even the house is dark and quiet. Chewing on his thumbnail he glances around camp a little, checking the moon and noting that really there’s not going to be anyone else awake at this time to help him. But the thought of returning to his tent and being physically alone makes him feel even worse, so instead he moves to sit by the fire pit, willing to just be surrounded by the knowledge that other people were near.

A movement from the roof of the RV stops him in his tracks and when he looks up to see what made it he finds Shane looking down at him with a small frown. “You alright man? Something happen?”

Giving a small shrug Daryl kicks at the dirt on the ground, remembering how Merle always said that only babies cried after nightmares and fully aware of the tear tracks still visible on his cheeks. Wiping at them again he’s not sure how to explain what’s wrong right now, fairly sure that Shane would use it against him in some way later on. Sure Shane had been nice earlier on, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to go back to being an asshole now.

“Wanna come join me up here?” Shane asks him, and when Daryl gets the guts to look at him again he notes that the other man is smiling softly to him. “It’s kind of lonely up here by myself, I’d appreciate the company.”

Well if Shane was lonely then it would be pretty rude to leave him like that. So giving a nod of agreement, Daryl moves to climb up the ladder of the RV, moving to sit on the roof of the vehicle besides Shane. Wrapping his arms about his legs he enjoys the cool breeze around them for a moment, giving a small sigh as they watch the border of the farm together.

Sitting with Shane is a little awkward. A part of him is waiting for when Shane is going to snap and tell him losing Sophia was all his fault with a slap to the head But it doesn’t come and instead the pair of them simply watch the moon travel across the sky until Daryl actually feels kind of comfortable being with him. Comfortable enough that when Shane asks if he’d had a nightmare, Daryl gives a small nod in reply without worrying about being laughed at.

“Yeah they suck man.” Shane tells him, reaching out a hand to slap him on the shoulder, and Daryl is pleased when he only gives a small flinch in response. “Had a few of my own since this whole thing started. But they’re just nightmares, no matter how real they feel, they can’t hurt you.”

He hadn’t expected the other man to try and give him any comfort, so he takes it with both hands and a small smile, moving to suck on the tip of his thumb as they sit beneath the stars together. “I guess.”

“Doesn’t make it much better does it?” Shane asks, looking to him with a small smile before continuing. “Nah I know man.” There’s a small pause between them, Shane gesturing to where Daryl’s tent sits in the darkness in the distance. “You know I was thinking, if you wanted we could move your tent nearer the groups? Set you up at our camp here with us. It would keep you safer.” He mentions and Daryl frowns at that a little.

“I can look after myself.” He points out, ready to have the argument he’s had to deal with all his life once someone found out about him, but Shane surprises him with a squeeze to his shoulder.

“I know man, but after everything that’s happened lately…well people are worrying a lot more about everyone. The group don’t want to lose you too and having you out there, closer to the woods is putting people on edge. We’d all appreciate it if you came a little closer to camp.”

Daryl supposes he can understand that, and besides right now Shane looks so open and honest with him that it doesn’t feel like something being forced upon him. Usually if someone thought it was for his own good they’d make him do it, but Shane was just suggesting it to him. Giving a loose shrug he doesn’t feel so bad about moving closer, and besides it meant he wouldn’t have to walk so far if he had more nightmares. “Okay. Just for the moment, until Hershel lets us join them in the house.” He relents.

“You think they’re going to let us stay after everything that happened today?” Shane asks him and Daryl ends up looking to him in confusion at the question.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

There is a moment where Shane just looks at him, pausing for a moment before a light of understanding seems to flicker in his eyes. Daryl remembers Rick saying he’d spoken to Shane about him and wonders exactly how he explained it all to him. What rules was Shane given to follow when it came to him? “I made them pretty upset with the barn incident Daryl. Hershel…Hershel didn’t think the walkers were dead, he thought they were just sick.” Shane explains to him, his voice isn’t condescending, but rather just calm and pointing out what Daryl supposed other people would understand right away.

Chewing on his thumb, Daryl thinks back to Merle’s first lesson about the walkers. He remembers watching the walker in the headlights, seeing him chew on a dead fox and then lunge at Merle with his mouth open. Shivering a little he curls his arms around himself tighter, burying his nose in the collar of Merle’s shirt. “They are sick.” He tells Shane with a nod, feeling the certainty in his words because Merle had never lied when it was important. “But they’re dead too. And even if you don’t want to, you have to take them down, because we’re more important than them.” He explains, the most important lesson of his life now being applied to people instead of just game in the forest.

Shane pauses for a moment, just looking him over and Daryl wonders what’s going through his mind as he looks at him. Most people always seemed so confused by him when they spoke to him, but Shane just looks surprised, maybe even a little proud. “Hershel didn’t understand that Daryl. His wife and son were in that barn, he thought that he was going to look after them and when a cure came they would be well again.”

“You can’t bring back the dead.” That’s a fact he’d learnt early on. Sometime between holding a dead rabbit by the ears and wondering why it wouldn’t move, and standing at his mother’s funeral with Merle’s hand in his, he learnt that the dead didn’t come back. “They just go to sleep and don’t wake up.”

Picking at the collar of Merle’s shirt, he listens as Shane snorts out a small noise of agreement beside him. “Yeah. Yeah I know man, I just don’t think Hershel is going to see it like that.” Shane tells him, shifting a little closer in the cool night air, and Daryl doesn’t mind the closeness as much as he thought he would. “He thinks we killed his wife and son, he probably won’t let us stay here much longer.”

That makes the upset in his stomach start up again, nerves and worry mixing together and making him pout a little. “I don’t want to go back on the road again. I want to stay here on the farm.” He knows he sounds like a little kid, but right now he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want this potential of safety taken away from him so soon.

A hand presses against his back, rubbing up and down lightly. It’s actually kind of soothing and Daryl finds himself leaning back into Shane’s touch without even thinking about it. “Not got much of a choice man.” Shane mutters with a small sigh.

It itches a little to hear him say that, especially when he knows what that really means. He thinks back to his conversation with Carl and remembers their thoughts on Shane. “That mean you’re going to start being angry again?” He asks, unable to stop the flinch when Shane’s hand tenses upon his back.

“What?”

“Carl said you might not be so angry if we got to stay on the farm.” He hastily explains, not wanting the blame to be placed on himself and desperate for Shane to understand he wasn’t trying to be mean. “Where it’s safer and we’ve got food and water, he said you might be happier if we got to stay here. You’re always so angry all the time.” Daryl tells him, feeling guilty for doing it, but honestly he doesn’t like that Shane and he wants this Shane to stay around longer.

Shane sighs a little, moving his hand from Daryl’s back to run his fingers through his hair. For a moment Daryl is worried he’s going to be hit in retaliation, but instead Shane replaces his hand back on Daryl’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze. “I don’t mean to be Daryl, things are just…complicated. Sometimes when I get upset, I get angry.”

“Are you upset because of Sophia?” He asks, picking at the hem of Merle’s shirt. The upset over the whole thing still wracks him, making him shudder at the thought of her in his dream, clawing at his skin and screaming at him to help her. He leans a little closer to Shane, further into his grip and uncaring of the other man’s possible reaction.

There’s no anger fortunately, and Shane just continues in his calm voice. “Of course I am, but there’s more than that.” It’s not quite an explanation, so between chewing on his lip and sucking on the tip of his thumb, Daryl builds up the nerve to ask something that’s been bothering him for a while.

“Are you upset because you had to kill Otis?”

Immediately Daryl knows he’s made a mistake when Shane’s hand tenses on his back. He can feel the anger already boiling beneath the surface and he doesn’t want to be there for it. This was something he knew how to avoid. His whole life had been a series of rules and lessons he’d stuck to in order to keep himself safe, to keep himself hidden from those who would hurt him and right now he’s glad he knows what to do.

Pulling away from Shane as quickly as he can he scoots over to the ladder of the RV, practically jumping down as the worry starts up in his gut again. Right now he’d rather be off on his own and safe than with someone else to stop the nightmares. Nightmares couldn’t hurt him, but Shane could if he wanted to. He’s had enough bruises in his life and right now he didn’t want to fight and just be another problem for Shane to get angry over.

“Daryl!” Shane hisses after him but he doesn’t stop, instead Daryl picks up his pace, burying his nose in the collar of Merle’s shirt and hurrying himself back to his own tent. He should have known better than to open his big mouth, Merle always used to tell him that his mouth would get him into trouble someday. Right now he doesn’t want to deal with any of this, after the nightmare and everything else, he knows he can’t cope with this right now.

Chewing on his thumb he climbs back inside his tent, zipping it up shut again as if the barrier would help keep the rest of the world away. His head feels confused again, and though he knows he’s made a mistake, he just wishes he knew what would have been the right choice to make. Curling up on his cot he buries himself in his blankets, clutching at Merle’s shirt and watching the entrance to his tent with rapt attention.

This is just like when he was a kid. He remembers sitting in his and Merle’s room with the covers over his head like a hood as he watched the door, listening real hard like he was hunting for rabbits. But there were never any rabbits behind the door, only ever his dad, angry and shouting, heavy footfalls on the floorboards and a drink in his hand. He learnt how to stay quiet and out of the way and how to hide his differences from everybody else.

Now he wishes he’d fucking learned better.

There are footfalls coming closer to his tent, moving through the grass towards him and Daryl can’t help but curl a little tighter in on himself when there is a rapping on the entrance to his tent. “Daryl? Daryl for God’s sake man, I’m coming in.” Shane hisses through the fabric, and in seconds the zipper is torn open and Daryl can feel the terror clutch at his stomach as Shane enters his personal space.

“I didn’t mean it.” He blurts out, backing up as much as he can and curling in on himself, trying to make himself a smaller target. Cover your head, that’s what Merle always used to say when they were mock fighting, teaching him how to throw a punch and take one too, it was a lesson he’d learnt young. “Didn’t mean it Shane. I don’t think you killed Otis, I was kidding.” Daryl babbles to the other man.

“No you weren’t.” Shane cuts across him, dropping to his knees on the tent floor and reaching out to him. It makes Daryl flinch backwards and curl his fingers into fists, ready to defend himself if he had to. “I know you weren’t Daryl, calm down alright I just want to talk.” Shane tells him, hands flat, fingers latched onto the edge of his cot and holding there. Not hitting, not punching, just placed there with Shane watching him quietly, looking tired, looking scared and leaving Daryl even more confused. “I just want to talk man. I just…how the hell did you know about that?”

Peering out from his nest of covers, Daryl watches Shane for a moment, double checking that there were no punches coming his way before letting the sheets drop a little. Whatever protective barrier he’d used them as no longer needed when he finds nothing but confusion on Shane’s face. Shrugging a little Daryl picks at the hem of Merle’s shirt, nibbling on his lower lip before pointing to where Shane’s holster usually has a weapon in it. “You got his gun.” He mumbles, remembering when Shane had been speaking at Otis’ funeral, and how he’d not been able to look anyone in the eye. No one ever looked you in the eye when they were lying. “I…I thought everyone knew.”

Shane lets out a breath in one short sharp burst, all of it leaving his lungs in one go as he leans up to rub at the back of his head. “No, no they don’t know Daryl.” He sounds a little worried, licking at his lips and leaning closer, his voice lower like anyone else would hear them. “Everyone else believed what I said at his funeral, no one else noticed.” He sighs, pressing his palms together, resting his lips against his fingertips before looking up a Daryl. “Have you told anyone?”

And if there was ever a moment that Daryl knew that telling the truth was important, it was now. Shaking his head he leans a little closer to Shane, letting his voice drop to a whisper in the darkness shared between them. “No. I thought it was a secret.” He tells him and instantly Shane looks relieved, letting out another breath and nodding to him quickly.

“It is man, it is a secret. No one else needs to know okay? You cannot tell anybody else about what I did.” Shane sounds so panicked, almost scared as he talks. “If anybody else found out, things really wouldn’t be good. So tell you what, let’s just keep this between you and me okay?”

He could do that. Daryl had never really had anyone to share secrets with before and if Shane said it was important, then it must be. Nodding in reply he still fidgets with the hem of Merle’s shirt, rolling the fabric back and forth over his fingers when he looks up to Shane again. “Why would things be bad?”

There’s a small pause, Shane watching him in the dark for a moment before speaking. “Daryl…you understand what I did right?”

Sure he did. Shane killed Otis, there was no sacrifice, Shane killed Otis on purpose to get away from the walkers. Chewing on his lower lip a little he gives a small nod, glancing up to Shane and trying to explain his thought process. “But you saved Carl.” He mumbles, and this time when Shane moves a little closer, he doesn’t flinch back.

“I know, I know I did, but Rick and the others, they won’t see it like that. They don’t understand how things work anymore. I made a tough choice that day, I did what I had to do but I don’t think the others would understand it.” Shane tells him and this time Daryl finds that maybe he has the answer Shane is looking for.

Reaching out lightly he pats at his arm, trying to help as best he can as he explains slowly. “Merle always told me that sometimes we have to kill to survive, and it’s alright because we’re more important. Sometimes things have to die for us to live, didn’t you know that?” He asks and it’s a small surprise when Shane lets out a tiny laugh before smiling to him.

“I…no. No I didn’t Daryl.” Shane tells him, moving to sit more comfortably on the floor before his cot. “But even if that is the case, we still need to keep it a secret. The others wouldn’t understand, you remember what Rick said to you before? We don’t kill the living. They’re not ready to know about this yet.”

“Like they’re not ready to know about you and Lori?” He doesn’t know what it is, but now he’s got one question off his mind it seems the rest are all following without his permission. Shane makes a noise like he’s choking before looking up at him, eyes wide even in the dark.

“Jesus Christ man, do you know every secret around camp?”

Blushing a little Daryl shrugs in answer, picking at the sheets around him and remembering what Merle always said about him. “I’m just observant I guess. So is that making you upset too?”

Shane nods, running his hand over his head again in a way that was becoming familiar to Daryl. He guessed maybe it made Shane feel better when he was nervous, like when he liked to suck his thumb to feel better. Nibbling on the tip of his thumb he relaxes a little into his cot, not feeling so tense and worried about Shane as he did before. “Yeah. Yeah it is man. It’s complicated though alright?” Shane tells him and damn he hates when people say that. Everyone said relationships were complicated and it just made him not want one even more.

“Well of course it is, I mean Rick’s your best friend, you’ve got to love him an awful lot to be a best friend. So you must love Lori and Carl a whole lot too, but now Rick’s back and he loves them a whole lot, so I guess it’s got to be complicated.” He points out, lying back and curling in to his sheets. “You must miss getting to be with her a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do miss her.” Shane mumbles and Daryl figures if he really was upset, then he should try to help a little.

Humming around his thumb he fidgets with Merle’s shirt, feeling his side ache a little over the stress he’s put it through today. Letting his thumb rest against his lips he watches the top of the tent instead of looking to Shane directly. “It’s okay to be upset when you miss someone. Whenever Merle used to be in prison, I’d be real upset too, even if I was ‘sposed to be being strong. Sometimes you can’t help it though. But when Merle was in prison, I’d be scared he was getting hurt, least you know Lori is safe with Rick. He’ll protect her and look after her.” He tells him and there’s a small sigh before Shane replies from beside him.

“I hope so man.”

Nodding quietly Daryl buries himself down further, running the pad of his thumb over his lip as he speaks. “He will. I know he will and besides, you’re helping look out for her and Carl too, so they’ll be double safe. And everyone else is looking after them as well. They’ve got the whole camp looking after them. They’re not going to get hurt.” He concludes, feeling himself begin to flag with tiredness from the rough day.

“You sound so certain Daryl.” Shane mumbles to him and Daryl doesn’t mind that the other man is still here as he begins to drift off. He doesn’t feel as on edge as before around Shane and that’s a nice feeling to have.

Slipping his thumb into his mouth he mumbles around it as he hears Shane move around next to him, settling onto the floor of his tent and grabbing at extra blanket. “I just hope Hershel lets us stay, now the barn is clear it’s safer here.” Daryl mumbles, eyes already at half-mast and only blearily able to see the figure of Shane lying down beside him to get some rest.

“I’ll apologise tomorrow, see if I can make amends for it all. Explain myself as best I can to them.” Shane tells him and when a hand reaches out to tug the blanket higher up over him, Daryl doesn’t flinch.


	8. Stitch me up

It takes a few days for things at the farm to really calm back down to a more settled level. Daryl’s glad for it, he could almost feel the tension in the air between them in the camp and the farmhouse and its inhabitants. Shane had gone and apologised like he’d said he would, Glenn had been trying his best to get things sorted out, but Daryl thinks it was the evening where Rick stopped Hershel from going into town to drown his sorrows in drink that really fixed things between them all.

He’d been on watch that night and the sound of someone going to leave the farmhouse had alerted him. Rick had been there when he’d seen it was Hershel, the old man looked blank, almost empty as he’d headed for his car and fortunately Rick had gone to talk to him. No one had left the farm that night, but Daryl had pretended not to look as Hershel had sobbed into Rick’s shoulder and mourned for his lost wife and son.

It wasn’t like things between them magically got better, but Daryl didn’t think that Hershel wanted them all to leave as soon either. The women still helped out with the chores and he made sure to keep the perimeter of the farm free from walkers and helped out fixing fences where it was needed. It was like the whole group had banded together to give the Greene’s time to mourn their losses and they would take care of the farm for them.

Daryl doesn’t see much of Carol, and when he does see her she looks so fragile that it scares him. He doesn’t want to make her any sadder than she is, so he doesn’t bother trying to say he’s sorry, because he knows that maybe she needs someone to blame and he can be that for her. She looks at him sometimes, across the campfire in the evening light and he can still see the glint of tears in her eyes. He hates that, so he keeps his head down and repeats Rick’s words in his head until he doesn’t feel so guilty.

But he doesn’t have the courage to talk to her yet.

He still misses Sophia and Merle too, that ache never goes away, but it does die down and sometimes keeping his mind off of it helps. So when the nights are long and lonely, he gives up all intent of staying away from the group and asks Shane to help him move his tent closer. It’s better when he’s at the main campsite, and when he has nightmares there’s always someone on watch that doesn’t mind his company.

Voices wake him up one morning, they’re outside of his tent all chatting about something in hushed voices but it’s not enough for him to ignore. Daryl can’t quite hear them properly, but the noise is enough to get him leaving Merle’s shirt on his cot before making his way out of his tent. Rubbing at his eyes he trudges over to where the group is sitting, yawning himself awake and trying to make his hair lie flat as he runs his fingers through it. It’s not the best way to wake up, he knows he’d rather have Carol stroking through his hair like she had before in the CDC but after everything that’s happened he’s not so sure he deserves that anymore.

Andrea is the first to notice him and she makes a gesture to everyone else so they can notice him too. And like that they all stop talking, leaving him to walk up to them all in an awkward silence and fidget to himself as they all look to him.

“What?” He’s never exactly liked being the centre of attention, and having them all look at him like that was making nerves begin in his stomach. Lifting his hand to his mouth he can’t help but chew on his thumbnail as he looks around the group, noting the way everyone seems to look to Rick for an answer.

“Morning Daryl.” And out of all of them Rick looks fine, smiling to him a little and immediately Daryl doesn’t feel so on edge anymore. If Rick wasn’t worried then he shouldn’t be either. “We were just making plans for reinforcing the fences today. Thought we’d go do it in shifts so everyone does their fair share.” Rick tells him and Daryl can only shrug in answer with a nod, it seemed a decent idea to him. “But first, Hershel stopped by earlier and asked for you to go see him when you woke up. Said he wants to check on your stitches and your side for you.”

“Should have woken me earlier.” Daryl mumbles in reply, feeling guilty for being asleep when everyone else was going about the daily chores and making plans without him. Would they have left him to sleep for longer if he hadn’t been awoken by their talking? “I’ll come help when I get back.” He offers, nodding to Rick before turning on his heel, able to feel the way everyone watches him as he walks towards the house.

It makes him feel uneasy, and every little worry that he tries to keep locked away begin to creep up on him. People have always stared at him, especially when he forgot himself in front of them. But that was before, these people haven’t seemed at all bothered by the way he acts before now, maybe it was something else? Had he said or done something to annoy them? Were they upset with him and wanted him out of the way while they made plans for the day? It makes his stomach feel tight and by the time he reaches the door of the farmhouse his hands are shaking a little as he knocks.

Fidgeting on the porch Daryl can’t help but let his mind wander over the past few days, trying to pin down whatever it was that he must have done to get everyone looking at him like that. Maybe it was Carol? She could have said how disappointed she was in him and maybe everyone else had decided that if he couldn’t protect one little girl then he was no good to the group after all. Besides it wasn’t like he’d been able to hunt for the past few days and if he didn’t provide them with food then what good was he to them?

What if they wanted him to leave?

His stomach feels tight with butterflies inside of it and when the door swings open before him he can’t help but flinch a little in surprise. Lowering his eyes to his feet he feels a fool for jumping over such a thing, people didn’t need him acting a pussy right now when he was meant to be strong to protect people. “Rick said that Hershel wanted to see me.” He mumbles in explanation for his presence, feeling out of place and uncomfortable.

Patricia nods, smiling kindly even though she must still be hurting from losing Otis and the people in the barn. She leads him inside, and yet again Daryl feels completely out of place. The house is so warm and inviting, a real family home with pictures over the walls, books on the shelves and he feels far too dirty to be allowed in here. Like a dog that was supposed to stay off the furniture.

She leads him to a room in the back, it’s nothing much, but it looks to have been made into a kind of office. Veterinary books line the shelves, there’s a desk by the window and Hershel sits at it reading what looks to be a bible. Daryl feels even more awkward when Patricia leaves him there with the other man and Hershel just continues reading for a moment.

Daryl fidgets, chewing on his thumbnail and unable to stop from shifting from foot to foot as he waits to be noticed. Usually people of Hershel’s stature were the kind to need respect, the kind of man his father thought he was, the kind of man that preferred people like him to be seen and not heard. It makes him feel uncomfortable and when he’s behind a desk like that Hershel looks a lot more like a strict school master and not like the kind old man that had tucked him in when he’d been injured.

Swallowing back the worry in his gut, Daryl tries to calm himself down. Right now he was only doing as he was told, weren’t nothing wrong with that. “Uh, sir?” His voice is low, just loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to be ignored if that’s what Hershel wanted to do. When Hershel looks up to him though there is no anger in his eyes, he looks kind again, soft and calm, the kind of person that didn’t yell at people for interrupting him. Able to breathe a little easier Daryl finds his stomach calming a little and he drops his thumb from his mouth when he speaks again. “Rick said you wanted to see me?”

Hershel smiles to him with a nod, marking his page in the bible before setting it aside. The older man doesn’t seem mad at being interrupted at all, and before Daryl can let himself get lost in worries again, Hershel is ushering him inside and offering him a seat. “Yes I did, I think it’s about time we took those stitches out if you’ve healed enough. Have they been bothering you at all?”

Daryl shrugs a little when Hershel gets up from his seat to move around to him, taking a bag from the floor and removing some medical scissors and gloves to set them on the desk. “Been itching, but I didn’t scratch at them.” Though he’d wanted to, especially when they had kept him awake.

“Good, we don’t need any infections happening. Now if you’d take off your shirt for me we’ll take a look.”

He’s never liked taking off his shirt in front of people, not ever, and he can’t help but chew on his lower lip as he rocks on the chair a little. It’s not like Hershel hasn’t seen him with his shirt off before though and besides the farmer was only trying to help him and take out the itchy stitches. Still he has to swallow back some of his discomfort when he begins plucking the buttons undone.

“Daddy? Beth’s not doing so good, could you maybe take a look at her and…oh.”

Automatically Daryl’s hands are clutching at his shirt, dragging the two sides together and hunching in on himself to hide away from the newcomer. Glancing over his shoulder he can see the eldest of the Greene daughters watching him, looking apologetic as she leans in the doorway.

“I’m sorry daddy, I didn’t know you were busy. Could you just come look at Beth when you’re done?”

“It’s no problem.” Hershel is always so kind, even after everything that’s happened and after just losing the people he’d thought were sick a few days ago the man still wants to help. Maggie and Beth were lucky to have him for a father. “Actually I can go see to her now if you could take out Daryl’s stitches for me?”

Immediately Daryl is looking up, clutching at his shirt and looking over to the woman in the doorway. Maggie nods with a gentle smile to him and though he knows she’s nice enough, it doesn’t stop Daryl from feeling uneasy at her being the one to help him out. Hershel tells her that everything she needs is on the table for her, and to go get him if there’s anything she’s unsure about. Then the old man turns to him and Daryl fidgets with the buttons of his shirt when he speaks.

“Daryl, Maggie is going to remove your stitches for you, there’s nothing to worry about, she’s done this countless times and I trust her to do a good job. Is that alright with you son?” Hershel asks him and damn he doesn’t want to be a bother.

Maybe he’d rather have Hershel do it, but their group had already been such a big problem for Hershel and his family, he didn’t want to make it worse. Besides, Maggie wouldn’t hurt him or anything, she’d always been nice and everything, even when he’d gone and lost her horse for a day. Plus he’s sure Hershel would much rather be caring for his daughter and making sure she was well rather than some random redneck that turned up at his doorstep one day. So he nods his head in answer, trying not to chew on his lip too hard when he looks up to Hershel.

Then Hershel is gone, moving on upstairs to care for his youngest daughter and leaving Daryl alone in the office type room with a still smiling Maggie. Immediately the butterflies are back in his stomach, whirling around and making him feel uncomfortable in the silence hanging between them. He’s never been so good at talking to people, but girls were even harder to talk to than boys. They were just so different to him, so soft and clean, with shiny hair and pretty dresses when he was always dirty and wearing something for the third day in a row. He never knew what to say and they always looked at him like he was dirt anyway.

Chewing on his nails he can’t help but flinch a little as Maggie draws closer to him, slipping on the gloves and getting in his space. She notices and he feels bad for that, but when he looks up to her again she’s smiling to him, the same gentle smile that she’s used to seeing from her father.

“How about I check out that head wound first?” She asks him, keeping her hands to herself until he gives a quiet nod. Only then does she reach out to stroke through his hair, brushing it back from his face to look at where the bullet had caught him. There’s not much there anymore, just a small graze that’s closed up and isn’t a problem, even if he still sometimes got headaches from it. But Maggie still strokes through his hair for a while, letting it fall back into place before combing it back and away from his forehead. It’s kind of nice, kind of like when Carol would do it for him when he had woken up before. “You don’t have to worry Daryl, I know what I’m doing.”

It’s not that he doesn’t trust her; he squirms in his seat a little when she removes her hands from his head and inches back to look him over. But he knows what’s coming next, and the mere thought of it all makes him feel uncomfortable as hell. “Can…” He swallows back the nerves, kicking his feet against the floor and watching them swing back and forth as he speaks. “Can I keep my shirt on?”

When he looks up to Maggie she looks as lost as he feels, and it seems to take a few moments for her to hear what he’s said and process it. He knows he’s not like the other guys around camp, Shane was always walking about with no shirt on, Rick had too and even T-Dog and Glenn when the weather got too hot. But he didn’t like it, he didn’t like people seeing him, especially not when they were too nice to understand why he had the scars.

Daryl can’t help but flinch when Maggie’s hand falls to his shoulder, he knows it’s meant to be comforting, but he just can’t help it. When he looks up to her she’s smiling still, but this time it looks a little sad around the edges and he doesn’t want to make her sad. “Sure.” She tells him and her voice is soft, comforting and calm and this time she kneels beside him instead of standing over him like before. “But you’ve got to hold it up out of the way for me okay?”

He nods and does as she asks, lifting the edge of his shirt on his injured side just enough to reveal his wound. It’s better this way, sure she can see some of him, but the worst scars are still hidden on his shoulders, covered by his clothing and that makes him feel much more comfortable.

“Have you had stitches removed before Daryl?” Maggie asks him, her voice still soft and sweet and nowhere near threatening as she skates her fingers over his side.

Shrugging a little he watches her closely, it’s not that he doesn’t trust her, but it was kind of interesting to watch this sort of thing. He may get to skin and gut things on a regular basis, but usually he was too busy gritting his teeth and looking in a mirror to watch stitches come out. “Yeah but, not by a doctor or nothing.” He replies, trying to smile back to her in the same reassuring manner when she looks up at him a little startled.

“Not by a…” She pauses, nodding her head a little and her lips turn into a tight line for a minute before that easy smile is in place again. “Okay well what I’m going to do is cut the stitches and then pull them out. Now you might feel a tug on your skin where I’m pulling but that’s normal and it might be a little tender, but that just means it’s healing properly.” It’s nice having her explain it all and it helps make all the nerves and butterflies go away easier.

Nodding along he sits still for her, watching as he fingers dance over his skin and remove the bandages before reaching for the scissors and little dish of antiseptic they had. Maggie works gently on the wound, apologising when the tugs hurt a little and not yelling at him when he can’t help but fidget after a while. Soon enough the silence feels awkward again and he’s kicking his feet against the floor as he tries to fill it.

“I’m sorry about the barn.” He tells her, picking at the loose threads at the knees of his jeans and not watching her as he tries to explain. “Weren’t tryin’ to hurt you or nothin’ but the walkers are dead and sick, they ain’t gonna get better though.”

Maggie gives a small sigh as she removes the last stitch, dropping it into the dish and moving to take up the bandages to cover the still healing wound. “I know.” She tells him. “I know that they’re dangerous, I know that you were just trying to protect yourselves and I understand why you did what you did, but a part of me… I wanted to believe it you know?”

Kicking his feet against the floor Daryl gives a small nod, fully understanding where she was coming from. “Sometimes it’s nicer to believe in something made up than the real thing.” He remembers pretending that Merle was just away for a while and not in prison. That his mom was just tired and not passed out drunk again. That his dad loved him really and it was just the drink that made him so angry. “Not all lies are bad.”

“No, they’re not.” Maggie agrees and her gentle fingers tape the bandage in place before tugging his shirt back down for him. “I just wanted my mom and my brother to be alright, I just wanted everything to be okay again.” She tells him and Daryl can only nod in understanding.

“You’ve still got your dad though.” He tells her. “And your sister and Jimmy and Patricia and Glenn and, and all of us too.” Not that he expects her to think of them as anything more than guests on their farm, but the Greenes were nice people and he wants to stay here with them. He wants Maggie to like them all too and to want them to stay here. “Least you ain’t on your own. Ain’t nothin’ worse than bein’ on your own.”

She gives a small laugh, her lips turned up in a smile as she removes the gloves and stands from kneeling beside him. When she reaches out to pat his shoulder the next time he doesn’t flinch and instead smiles back to her as best he can. “You’re right. Thank you Daryl.”

As Maggie begins packing away the medical supplies Daryl knows that it’s his time to leave, but when he gets to the doorway there’s still one thing he wants to know. “Maggie? Do you think your dad will let us stay? Shane said sorry didn’t he?”

“Yeah he did, but I don’t know Daryl. I’ll try to convince him, but I don’t know what he’ll decide.” Maggie tells him with a small shrug.

That’s not good, he’d still rather have a proper answer already but he knows it’s not his place to keep pushing the issue. Hershel would decide by himself when he wanted to, but he still knows staying on the farm would be better than being out there. “Thank you Maggie.” He instead replies and leaves the farmhouse behind him as he heads back to the camp.


	9. Sibling shadow

The camp is almost deserted by the time he gets back, with only Dale standing atop the RV and watching the boundaries of the farm, and Andrea sitting at the camp table to clean her gun through again. Daryl knows she’s practicing over and over, not wanting to get caught out like she had with the herd and desperate to be able to defend herself. He likes that about Andrea. Sure, she was stubborn as hell and she’d teased him when they were in the woods looking for Sophia, but she was determined and now that she’d decided to live it seemed she was serious about it.

 

Daryl had hated when she’d been so fragile at the CDC, and afterward. It felt as if she were only a shell of a person and seeing her staring blankly out of the windows, barely eating, barely sleeping and just looking so hollow had reminded him far too much of watching his mother slowly evaporate into nothing more than ashes. At least Andrea had gotten better and now she was only getting stronger.

 

It’s not that he hates people who think about suicide, it's just something that he has never really understood. Throughout his whole life he’s been taught to fight, to struggle on through the next obstacle and to come out tougher on the other side. Stopping has never seemed to be something he's allowed to do and besides, death is far more scary than being alive. At least you kind of know what's coming when you're alive, but death? Who knows if it's full of hellfire and demons like the old pastor had told him when he was younger, or if it would be merely his body rotting in a box like Merle had said. Either way Daryl knows he does not like the idea of death. Sure, sometimes things have to die for him to live, but that's the point. 

 

He just knows he has to stay alive. 

 

It’s why he knows Merle's still alive out there. His big brother would never let this world beat him, and though he knows everyone else thinks he’s dead, Daryl knows otherwise. He’d seen Merle get out of bar fights with barely a scratch, he’d seen the aftermath of Merle’s drug binges, and he’d seen Merle punch their dad. If his brother could survive all the other shit that their life had thrown at them then he’s certain that Merle could survive being out there with only one hand.

 

Merle is tough, stronger and better than he is at surviving, and if Daryl’s still alive then it means that Merle just has to be. Even if he does only have one hand now. Daryl knows that had to have hurt and sometimes in the night, between the nightmares and burying his face in his brother’s shirt, he wonders if Merle blames him for not getting there fast enough. He doesn’t care if he does; Daryl still knows he’d give anything to see him again. 

 

Stopping off at his own tent he snatches up his bow from beside the entrance, never willing to go without it even if the farm was supposedly safe. Besides, at least now he can’t pop his stitches when he loads it.  Heck, maybe now that he isn’t so tender in his side he can even start giving Carl those crossbow lessons he’d promised him before. 

 

Wandering over to the tabletop he nods in greeting when Andrea looks up, taking note of her kind smile and how she scoots over a little to give him some space to perch on the bench beside herself. It’s a nice gesture and not something he’d have gotten from her in the quarry. Daryl guesses maybe they really are managing to become their own little family. 

 

“Everything alright with your side?” She asks, glancing at him a little as she begins snapping the pieces of her gun back into place. Her fingers aren’t quite used to the motions yet, still a little stuttered, but definitely getting there.

 

Nodding in reply, Daryl places a hand to his side, glad to feel the absence of the itchy stitches beneath his dressing and grateful for the knowledge that he’d be as good as new in no time. “Yeah, Maggie took out my stitches for me. Said everything looks fine, no problems or nothing.”  He's more than able to do his fair share of work now, and everyone has finally stopped asking how his side is every single day. A part of him is grateful for the questioning to stop, but there’s a pang of want also, a part of him wanting that care from someone. “Everyone out by the fences?” He asks, more than happy to get the conversation away from himself as soon as possible.

 

“Yeah, reinforcing some of the weaker ones for Hershel and double checking the perimeter.” Andrea replies, wiping the rag over the parts of her gun and setting them all out individually. “You going to join them?” She asks as he perches next to her for a moment on the seating. 

 

Shrugging a little, he watches the way the daylight catches in her hair.  The season is moving on around them, bringing in the slight breezes of fall and they'll need to start thinking about better shelter soon. Sure, their tents are good enough at keeping out the rain, but it won’t be long until they're facing some fierce storms that roll in at this time of year. He hopes that Maggie will manage to convince Hershel to let them in the house soon.

 

“Daryl?” Andrea nudges him, not looking mad, but just amused that his mind had wandered so easily.

 

“Might as well.” He replies, a small smile on his lips. He'd told Rick he would after all, and he doesn’t want to leave everyone else to do the work. “I’m sick of not being able to help out anywhere. Felt pretty useless these past few days.” Being unable to do anything isn’t a feeling he's used to; if he's unable to do anything it's only ever because he's injured. It had happened often when he was younger and it always got him yelled at for being so useless. He never understood that part. His dad would beat him for being so useless and in doing so, make him unable to do much of anything for the next few days and then complain about it. “Hate being useless.” He mutters, thumb to his lips so he can nibble on his thumbnail.

 

“You’re not useless, Daryl, you do a lot for us and we appreciate it.”  Andrea tells him, pausing in her cleaning to look at him properly. They haven’t really spoken much before now, except for that time out in the woods, but Andrea doesn’t make him as nervous as some of the other women do. Maybe it’s because he’s seen her at her weakest moment in life, and that makes her seem a lot less scary in his eyes. 

 

When she reaches out a hand to catch his wrist and tug his thumb away from his mouth, he doesn’t even flinch, not when she’s smiling to him so easily with a hint of teeth above her lip. It’s times like this that he remembers what she was like before at the Atlanta camp, when Amy was still alive. The sisters spent all of their time together, holding hands or linking arms, always chatting as they worked but the whole time Andrea was smiling and happy with her sister. 

 

Daryl thinks maybe that’s the reason he finds her easier to deal with compared to everyone else; because Andrea was a big sister. 

 

She's nothing like Merle of course, though she might be just as stubborn, but he's used to being a little brother and she's used to being a big sister.

 

Together they make two halves of a whole. She could never replace Merle and Daryl knows that he would never be able to replace Amy, but maybe together they could help to make the gaps feel a little bit smaller. Besides, he might like having someone to help him sometimes, and some people like being the people giving the help. Daryl thinks Andrea seems the type. 

 

She smiles so kindly to him, still holding his wrist to stop him from fidgeting, and letting her thumb rub small circles over his skin. “I know Rick would appreciate having you go to help them out. Shane says we might even add more traps and wires around the perimeter like we did at the quarry to give us even more of a warning.”

 

He nods in understanding, because maybe it didn’t work on their last night at the quarry, but Daryl remembers all the other nights before when they’d caught the odd walker in their string alarms. Honestly he’d be more than happy to do anything to make them all feel safer here. He wants the farm to be safe, he wants a home, somewhere they would be able to stay and start again. Watching Andrea’s hand on his wrist, he kind of wants to let this continue, because she’s smiling again and it doesn’t happen very often. “You not comin’?” He asks quietly and finds her looking up to meet his eyes. 

 

“I was going to stay here with Dale. Keep watch with him and be here in case the Greenes need something.” She nods to the farmhouse at the end of the dusty road and Daryl can’t help the small burst of hope that jumps in his chest. 

 

Of course he understands that. They’ve been trying to help keep things running and though no one says it, Daryl knows that they want to make sure that Hershel doesn’t try running off to drown his sorrows again.  “’s good.” He nods along, chewing on his lip but unable to keep his hope inside of himself. “Maggie said she’s gonna try and get her dad to let us stay. Properly, I mean. Maybe we could move into the house and stay here with 'em. Could be safe here.” 

 

It’s hope. That’s what the farm is for all of them. There's water here, and food, and people. They can make it here if they're careful. He knows things are bad, but they can make them good. All they need to do is make some rules to follow to keep them safe and everything will be fine. Daryl wants everything to be fine.

 

Andrea pats at his hand, a small laugh in her voice when she talks, but it’s not mocking, it’s just nice, bright and real and a sound he hasn’t heard in a long time. “Well then, you’d better go and get working on those fences to keep us all safe.” And she’s nodding, letting him get to his feet and even shooing him a little playfully with her hand. 

 

It’s fun. It’s not awkward, he doesn’t feel out of place or uncomfortable and he thinks that maybe they can really make this place somewhere safe to live. Maybe he could fit in with these people and they could be a family to him. 

 

“Where do you think you’re off to son?” 

 

His thoughts are interrupted by Dale, the old man pottering over with his rifle leaning against his shoulder and that silly hat on his head. At first Daryl had been wary of the old man, used to having to be respectful of them all the time and finding that Dale didn’t quite fit into the pattern he’d made in his head. Dale isn’t strict, he doesn’t shout or swear; he's quiet but people always listen to him anyway. So though he’s never had a great relationship with the man, there’s no anxiety rearing its head when he turns to face him. 

 

“To help with the fences.” He replies, shrugging loosely before pointing to where Andrea is back to cleaning her weapons. “Andrea’s stayin' here to help keep watch with you.”

 

Dale’s face looks a little pinched around his eyes, like he’s trying not to be mad, but there’s something wrong. Daryl’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything wrong, but it leaves questions in his head as to why Dale is looking at him like that. “I don’t know son, maybe you should stay here with us too.” And that has him even more confused. 

 

“Why?”

 

The old man has a soft smile on his face as he comes closer, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, making Daryl look at it warily. He doesn’t flinch, but he’s not exactly keen on being touched. “Well you should probably make sure you’re well rested. Just because you’ve been checked over doesn’t mean you’re completely healed.” Dale tells him, but his voice is different. It’s like he’s talking more deliberately, slower almost and meeting Daryl’s eyes when he does so. It makes Daryl feel uncomfortable. 

 

“He’s fine Dale, Maggie took out his stitches.” Andrea cuts in with a sigh and Daryl can hear in her voice that she’s not smiling anymore. 

 

Dale doesn’t remove his hand, and when he continues he’s not looking at Daryl anymore but instead turns to face Andrea. “But still, maybe it would be best if Daryl stayed here and didn’t do something so strenuous.  We don’t want him pushing himself too fast.” 

 

He doesn’t like this. He hates when people talk as if he’s not there.  It’s like he’s not important enough to even be involved in this conversation even though it’s about himself. 

 

“Dale, don’t be ridiculous. He’s fine to go and help with the fences if he wants.” Andrea snaps, the gun abandoned as she stands from her seat, moving to face Dale with her arms folded. She looks mad, like she wants her own way and even if she’s defending him, it still makes Daryl feel uneasy. 

 

“Well why doesn’t he just stay here and do some of the chores around camp?” Dale is smiling, clapping his hand on Daryl’s shoulder and looking like he’ has the answer to all of their problems. Like Daryl’s a problem they need to solve. The mention of him having to do easier chores makes him angry and within seconds, whatever patience he had for this conversation is gone. 

 

Letting his shoulder dip, he throws off Dale’s hand, moving instead to grip at the strap of his crossbow to ground himself. He feels angry, frustrated that somehow his happy chat with Andrea has turned into this talk of him needing to take things easy. He doesn’t need to take things easy, he's completely fine. Maggie said so and besides, he wants to help. Dale never had a problem with him helping them out at the fences before, so why was he worried about him now?

 

Daryl hates when people treat him differently. Yes, he acts differently to others, he knows that, he knows that every single day, but he doesn’t like it when people treat him differently. He doesn’t need this, and right now he doesn’t want to be around Dale anymore. Not when the man had pissed him off. 

 

Huffing a little, he can feel himself stand a little straighter, putting his shoulders back and trying to show all the bluster and confidence that Merle did. “I look like a housewife to you, old man?” He barks out, crossbow hitting against his back as he steps closer to Dale, trying to be threatening, trying to push him away, trying to prove himself as better than the other man thought. 

 

“Daryl is fully capable of going to help them Dale.” Andrea butts in, getting between them, placing a hand on each of their chests and nudging them further apart. It’s like he’s done something wrong, Daryl doesn’t like that at all. All he's doing is trying to help out with everything.  “He can do what he likes.” 

 

Damn right, he can do what he likes. He’s not a child, or a baby or a pet that needs to be watched all the damned time. He's fully capable of looking after himself and he doesn’t need anyone to defend him from some old coot with a dumb hat, neither. “Whatever. I’m goin’ to help ‘em.” He snorts; grabbing the gun he keeps in his waistband and tossing it onto the tabletop as he passes. “Here, you can clean my gun while you’re at it.” 

 

“Daryl I’ve never cleaned a gun except my own, I don’t know-“ 

 

“Learn.” He cuts Andrea off, refusing to look at neither her nor Dale as he stalks off. If she replies, he doesn’t hear it, nor does he care if he’s being demanding of her. Right now he doesn’t care if he upset either of them. Besides, they’d upset him first.

 

He doesn’t like the way Dale was talking to him. It reminds him of being younger, of sitting with doctors and being told that there might be things that he couldn’t do. It made him feel small. It made him feel useless and he remembers being lost until Merle had smacked it out of him. 

 

His big brother had taught him how to survive. Heck, there are some things he can do that other people can’t. Daryl can hunt; can survive in the woods by himself with no one else there to hold his damned hand.  Look at these people here, some of them had only learned how to use a gun in the last few months, and Daryl has known how since he was a teenager. Sure, maybe things confuse him sometimes. Maybe he needs some things explained, but that doesn’t mean he's stupid. 

 

Kicking at the long grass, he ignores the worries getting caught in his chest, ignores the way it feels like maybe something was wrong for Dale to be talking to him like that. He’s never spoken to Daryl like that before, so what changed? These people are fine, they don’t know. Or if they do, then they don’t care. Rick doesn’t care. Shane doesn’t care. No one cares. 

 

Chewing on his lip, he barely notices when he pauses on the outskirts of the group. Everyone else is working hard, fixing up the fences as a team in small groups, working along the row easily. They’re a team, a group, a family, and the sad fact is that he wants that. Daryl knows Merle always told him that they should only care for each other, but he can’t help it. These people are nice. 

 

They didn’t yell at him for getting upset over Sophia, they didn’t care if he had nightmares and didn’t want to be alone, they didn’t seem to care about the small things he did that he knew he was supposed to be hiding from them. It doesn’t feel wrong to want to be here. It feels like maybe if he just tries a little bit harder, then this could work. They could be a family together. 

 

He’d never really had a family before. Well, he’d had Merle, but it wasn’t exactly the same thing. Not really. Merle was Merle. He remembers trying to explain it before, trying to find the words to say exactly what Merle was to him. All he remembers thinking was that Merle was more to him. More than a brother. More than a friend. More than a teacher or a father or a mother or anything else. Merle was more to him than anything else he could think of. Merle was just his Merle, he’d decided in the end, and that was good enough. 

 

But now Daryl has more than one person, and that's just as exciting as it is scary. People that don’t look at him like he's a piece of shit.  People who appreciate that he knows how to skin a squirrel and which plants to eat if you're really starving. People that don’t care if he hasn’t watched the latest TV show or played the latest game, these people don’t seem to care about anything other than what he is. And after a lifetime of trying to hide exactly what he is from everyone, it’s kind of nice to be wanted anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse any formatting errors, my beta and I are having issues with things at the moment.


	10. Sharing

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to stop the worries in the back of his mind and carry on. Loosening his fingers from the strap of his bow, he lets one hand drift up to his mouth, nail lodging itself between his teeth naturally as he walks closer to everybody else. Nipping down lightly, he nods to Carl and Lori where they’re feeding the cows on one side of the fence. As he moves along, he makes his way to where the real work is being done.

T-Dog and Glenn have worked up quite a sweat between the two of them. Daryl can see the way the fabric of their shirts is clinging to their backs as they hammer in fence posts and nail in boards to strengthen them. It’s hard work, but the physical labour would be worth it when they had the added protection all up and running. Walkers are dumb things, more often than not they'll walk into something and then bounce off to walk away. It’s not until Daryl is slipping off his crossbow and setting it against a fencepost that they even notice him since they’re so focused on their work.

“Hey, look who’s back.” T-Dog grins at him, taking his appearance as a signal for a break and leaning on the pickaxe he’s been using to make holes for the new fence posts. “You feeling better man? Get your stitches out?” He asks, still wearing a bandage on his own arm from his injury on the highway.

Nodding a little, Daryl can feel the unease at having a real conversation creep up inside of himself. He’s never been so good with people, but he is willing to try for them all. “Yeah, all fixed up and ready to go.” He explains, gesturing to his side and placing his free hand over where the patch lies beneath his shirt.

Glenn sits on his knees on the grass, hair plastered to his head with sweat and blinking up to where Daryl stands above him. The kid looks excited, his eyes are bright and there’s the hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips when he speaks. “You get a cool scar from it?”

That word makes Daryl’s stomach churn, makes him bite harder on his thumb and dart his gaze to his feet. He didn’t like that word. Or rather, he didn’t like what that word meant to him. It makes his shoulders itch, makes him hunch in on himself and want to be smaller, to hide away and not be seen. He hates it and he hates that Glenn is smiling when he asks that.

Scuffing his feet against the dirt, he gives a tiny shake of his head, mumbling around the tip of his thumb when he answers and able to feel the worries and nerves build up within himself as he does so. “Scars ain’t cool.” He mumbles, able to feel their eyes on him as he dips his head to hide away from them both.

They pause, looking him up and down and trying to read him. Daryl hates that, hates being the centre of attention, people trying to pick him apart. It makes him feel uncomfortable and he has to bite down harder on his thumbnail to keep himself from turning on the spot and walk away. They don’t mean anything by it. He knows that.

“Well it shouldn’t scar anyway, right?” T-Dog breaks the silence, still leaning on his pickaxe, and Daryl peeks up to see him giving a loose shrug. “It was sewn up properly and looked after. Should be fine, ain’t nothing to worry about, right?”

Giving a nod Daryl agrees with the other man. He’d actually had almost professional care this time around, and the wounds on his back hadn’t ever been stitched at all. He’s sure he’ll have a little mark maybe, but it won’t be anything like the ones he hides away from the world. “Maggie said it looked okay.” He tells them both from around his thumb and like flipping a switch, suddenly Glenn is bouncing to his feet and eager to latch onto the conversation.

“Maggie took out your stitches?”

“Oh, look who’s jealous.” T-Dog laughs, rolling his eyes a little at the other man’s sudden interest. “What’s the matter, Glenn? Worried Maggie will turn her tastes to Southern cuisine now she’s seen Daryl with his shirt off?”

“No! I’m not- It’s not- Me and Maggie-“

They’re bickering. Glenn is blushing, T-Dog is grinning and for a moment Daryl feels pretty dumbstruck about what to do. Suddenly as if from out of nowhere, the mood has changed to humour and he’s not exactly sure what to do about it. Should he join in? Was mocking Glenn for his and Maggie’s not-so-secret relationship allowed? Or was he supposed to defend the younger man from T-Dog and his teasing?

He feels lost, but there’s one thing he feels the need to point out in case Glenn got the wrong idea. “I didn’t take my shirt off.” Daryl tells him from around the tip of his thumb. It’s mumbled, but he needs to make sure that Glenn knows that he didn’t take his shirt off around his girlfriend. Is Maggie his girlfriend? He isn’t sure, but he knows that guys aren't supposed to do that sort of thing around other people’s girlfriends. Glenn should know he hadn’t taken his shirt off.

There’s a moment when Glenn just blinks at him, but then he’s talking, well babbling, and Daryl finds the nerves starting to ease a little as the younger man makes a fool of himself.

“Oh. Well, that’s good.” Glenn begins, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “Not that it matters or anything, because you know, it’s none of my business if you do and besides its not as if Maggie can’t look at anyone she wants to. Not that you want Maggie to look at you or anything because you know, you’re Daryl and she’s- Not that she shouldn’t want to look because she should because you know, you’re-“

“Glenn shut up, man.” T-dog cuts in and Daryl can’t help but smirk a little as Glenn pauses to catch his breath. The kid is red in the face and Daryl’s pretty sure it’s not just from the heat of the day. “Geez, get some game, boy. Have some class.”

“Right. Yeah.” And Glenn takes a deep breath then, letting out a sigh and clearing his throat before smoothing out the creases in his clothing. T-Dog is shaking his head and Daryl even lets out a small chuckle at their behaviour.

In the comfortable silence that follows, T-Dog takes up his pickaxe again and nods for Daryl to come closer and help him get the new fence post in deep enough. Daryl is glad for the opportunity to help out and things feel comfortable and normal for a moment.

“So… did Maggie say anything about me?”

“Good Lord, we’re back in high school.” T-dog laughs at Glenn's question and Daryl can’t help but join in.

He’s grinning when he replies, feeling at ease and safe, among friends who feel like family and don’t mind having him help out. “Not really.” Daryl admits with a shrug and he can’t stop the excitement bubbling within himself and colouring his voice when he continues. “Said she wants us to stay though, on the farm. And I think she’s gonna try and make her dad let us move into the farmhouse if we’re lucky.” Maybe he’s excited, maybe they can see that he’s got a little bounce in his movements, but they don’t laugh at him and that’s nice.

“So it looks like you and Maggie are moving in together huh? Watch out, Glenn. This relationship is moving so fast you’ll be getting married on your two week anniversary.” T-Dog jokes and Daryl can only smile as Glenn goes a little pale and begins shoving at the other man.

“Dude, shut up. Don’t say things like that, that’s terrifying.” Heck Glenn seems to be a little thrown by their conversation, but the kid he doesn’t seem as scared as he proclaims. In fact, despite his denial Daryl thinks he looks a little intrigued at the idea. “Shit, I’ll just be moving in where it’s safer, nothing else.”

T-Dog plants another fence post, making sure it’s deeply rooted before Daryl helps to pack dirt around the base to secure it. “Well don’t get your hopes up, I don’t think Hershel will let you crawl into her bed just yet.” He points out and Glenn is rolling his eyes and shoving at him again in jest.

“Shut up, T.”

They work for an hour or so together and Daryl has to admit that he’s enjoying the atmosphere of their fun bickering. There are moments when they get pretty loud with each other and it takes a moment of watching their faces and seeing their smiles for Daryl to remember that they’re just joking. It’s all fun and not serious, and for a while it’s easy to forget that they’re not building up fences to keep out walkers. It feels relatively normal, or what he assumes normal feels like for others.

T-Dog lets out a whoop of noise, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead to stop the sweat from dripping into his eyes. “I dunno 'bout you boys, but I think we could use a break from this heat.” It’s true that the day has only gotten hotter as the sun rose above them, but Daryl is more than used to it than the others; the Georgia heat is nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

“You guys go ahead, I’m fine.” He tells them, picking up another plank of wood to reinforce the fence with. The way he sees it, he got here later than everyone else anyway, he didn’t need a break just yet. Plus, this way the work wouldn’t have to stop.

“Nah, come on man.” T-Dog smiles to him, reaching out to clasp at his shoulder and Daryl can’t help but flinch a little at the sudden closeness. He knows T-Dog doesn’t mean any harm, he’s probably being friendly, but it’s still not something he finds comfortable. “Everyone needs a break once in a while, this heat is killer.”

“Yeah and besides, we can’t leave you out here by yourself.” Glenn adds, but there’s something in the way he says it that gets the hair on the back of Daryl’s neck standing on end. He’s heard that tone of voice before and it’s not one he’s ever liked hearing.

But maybe he’s just jumping to conclusions. Maybe he’s just hearing things. So he shrugs it off and tries to convince them again. “I’m fine by myself, got my bow. I’ll see any walkers comin' a mile off.” He points out, nodding to where his weapon is leaning against the fence, ready to be fired should he need it.

However, it seems that’s not good enough and Daryl pauses in his work when he can feel T-Dog’s eyes on him as Glenn shuffles from foot to foot. The kid is uncomfortable, reaching up to fidget with his baseball cap and Daryl remembers that morning when Glenn had told them about the barn full of walkers. “Daryl,” Glenn begins, his voice wavering a little as he speaks, “that’s not what I meant.”

And there’s that tone again. Daryl can’t help it when he stands, dropping the tools beside the fence and automatically bracing himself for a fight. “What do you mean then?” He snarls, anger boiling beneath the surface and bubbling over. Daryl doesn’t want to be angry, but he can’t help it, not when he has a feeling he knows what Glenn is trying to stay. “Why can’t you leave me out here by myself?”

He watches as they pause. T-Dog sighs loudly, looking at his feet, leaning on a shovel and deliberately not looking up to face Daryl. Glenn is even worse, making noises where he obviously tries to start a sentence, but fading into nothing as he fails. The thing is, Daryl might not be great at reading people; emotions confuse the fuck out of him, but he’s seen these looks before. Guilt. Sympathy. Pity. And he doesn’t even need them to say anything for him to understand.

Nodding his head in understanding Daryl can’t help but feel betrayed, anger turning to upset as it all falls into place. “Rick told y'all, didn’t he?” It’s not a question because he’s certain he already knows the answer anyway. He can see it in the way they avoid looking at him. “He told you all about…” Stumbling over the words he can feel the upset building within himself. “About me.”

Watching them both, he can see the pause before they nod in answer, and goddamn, that makes him feel even worse. Shit. This is it. No wonder everyone had looked at him this morning when he’d woken up. He was their topic of conversation. No wonder Dale had been so desperate for him to stay at camp, and Andrea had been so damned nice. It's all falling into place now and God, he never wanted this to happen.

It seems they can see his distress and Glenn steps closer to him as he continues. “Yeah.” He admits, and Daryl can’t help but take a step back as he feels his stomach clench in a mix of anger and upset. “But it wasn’t bad or anything, Daryl. Rick just tried to help us all understand you better, that’s all.”

“What is there to understand?” He snaps. Right now he feels small, he feels uncomfortable and he does not like the way the other men are looking at him. Like he’s going to suddenly break, or something. “This is just…” Daryl tries not to stumble on his words, but it’s hard when he can feel himself starting to tremble. “This is just how I am, is all. Ain’t nothin' you need to understand.”

“Don’t get upset, Daryl.” Glenn’s voice is quieter, like he’s talking to a damned child instead of the usual tone he uses with him. “Rick only told us because he wanted to help us. Sometimes… sometimes things can be a little confusing.”

That makes Daryl choke a little and he can’t help it when he lifts his thumb to his mouth to chew on the nail. “Great.” He sniffs. “Now I’m confusin' y’all. Nothing but a damned problem for everyone to deal with on top of walkers and everythin' else.”

“No, it ain't like that, Daryl. You ain't a problem, man.” T-Dog tries to sooth him.

“We didn’t mean it like that. This is all coming out wrong.” Glenn sounds panicked but it’s not enough to make Daryl feel any better.

Right now he’s lost again. Everything is out in the open now, everyone knows about him and his problems and he knows it won’t be long until they're all treating him differently. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to be a problem. He wishes he was normal.

It’s too much to cope with and he can’t be here right now. Unable to even look at the other men he snatches up his bow from the ground, keeping it in his grip as he storms off and away from them. They call after him, he can hear that they’re worried but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to be watched like some kid. No matter what they think, he knows he's more than capable of being on his own.

T-Dog and Glenn don’t follow him, thank God, and Daryl keeps his eyes on the ground as he moves away from the camp, from the people and the eyes that are undoubtedly staring at him. The farm is huge and right on the edge there is a lake he’d found before to wash up in. Right now that seems the safest place to go. It’s somewhere he knows he won’t be bothered by anyone and he’ll have a safe viewpoint to look out for walkers.

Tramping through camp, he keeps his head down, fingers clenched around his bow to stop them from trembling. It’s easy to ignore the tears that blur his vision, and the way his breath sometimes hitches on a small sob as he walks away from everybody else. He can’t believe this is happening. Everything had been going so well, he’d been trying so hard and he thought he’d been doing such a good job of fitting in. But it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been good enough at hiding it all away.

Merle would be so mad at him.

The sound of someone approaching him makes him curl a bit tighter in on himself, gripping at his crossbow and focusing on staring down at his feet as he continues walking away. He doesn’t want anyone to see him right now and he just wants to be alone. Everything is building up inside of himself; anger, upset, tears and everything else, making him need to be away from everybody for a while. So it’s no surprise that when a hand reaches out to grab his arm, something inside of him snaps.

“Leave me the hell alone!” He barks, snapping his head up just enough to make himself clear as he shoves whoever had touched him away. There are tears in his eyes, he’s trembling a little and he doesn’t need someone else here to see him like this. They don’t need to pity him any more than they already do. Turning away, he continues to the lake, shoulders hunched and ignoring everyone else in the world for the moment.

It still doesn’t stop the guilt from crushing down on him when he thinks of how hurt Carl had just looked when he’d yelled at him.


	11. Wash it away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains use of the 'r word'. I hate using the word, but it's necessary and in character for it to be said.

The lake isn’t huge but it’s not small either. The decking of the dock stretches out just far enough past the bank to be a decent mooring spot for any rowboats and Daryl’s sure that if they manage to find one Andrea could get them some fish from this spot. Around the bank the reeds grow strong, unaffected by the state of the world and keeping the cycle of life going without missing a beat.

Sitting on the end of the dock he removes his shoes and socks, placing them beside himself with his crossbow on the top. It’s peaceful here, it’s quiet, it’s not a strain to sit here and he’s not constantly worried about walkers creeping up on him. With only one path to get to him he knew he could defend himself, and walkers didn’t like water anyway. Here was safe, here he could be alone without anybody else looking over his shoulder and judging him.

Dipping his feet into the water he takes a moment to just sit and be. Swinging his legs back and forth he enjoys the feeling of the water over his feet, swirling around in ripples beneath him, disturbed but never broken from its peace. The lake is safe, it’s far away from the rest of the world and here he can just exist as nothing more than Daryl.

The tears fall into the water beneath him, creating their own small ripples in the water as he hunches over himself. It feels weak to cry, to break down like this when Merle had always yelled at him not to. Crying was weak, and Dixon’s weren’t weak boy! He remembers the yells echoing off the walls, he remembers the hits to his face and having to keep his head low to hide the bruises at school. Thing is, he just can’t help it when the sobs get caught in his throat.

They knew now. These people that he’d been trying so hard to impress, these people that he wanted to be his family now knew everything about him. There was no hiding anymore and that makes him hiccup on more tears. It’s been years of trying to hide this part of himself and somehow these people had fooled him into being comfortable enough to let it all out. It felt like he’d been tricked and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

People always got so different once they knew and he hated that so much.

It had all started when he was little, he’s not sure how old he’d been, but he remembers it started at school. There had been a new woman in the classroom, Miss June, with long brown hair in a neat ponytail and pink lips that framed the brightest smile. She’d been really nice and had introduced herself, talking to them all and then moving round the classroom when they’d been doing their work. Daryl can remember being asked to go with her to another room, one of the teacher’s offices to do some special work.

He’d been excited, because he’d felt special, chosen to go and do some special work over everybody else had made him feel proud. They’d sat at the desk together and Miss June had spoken to him about some things as he worked. Only it didn’t feel a lot like work, it was more fun.

Miss June had gotten him to draw some pictures for her and asked him about school. She’d wanted to know about if he had any friends and what he did with them. Of course he’d had to shake his head and tell her no he didn’t but that was okay because he didn’t want any. Friends were difficult and he’d never understood why people liked them so much. It had always felt uncomfortable for him to be around other people, especially groups and with that much talking and everything, he’d never wanted it.

She hadn’t laughed at him or anything, and instead he remembers Miss June just smiling that bright smile and sitting beside him. They’d read a page of a book; drawn some pictures and then he’d had to write the answers to some math problems she asked him. The best part was that she told him even though this felt like a test; it was a test that he couldn’t fail and that had been nice to know. He’d never liked failing tests, and his daddy never liked it neither. He didn’t always fail, and it wasn’t like his grades were the worst in the class, it just sometimes got a bit difficult to concentrate and to care about school.

They had spent time together and Miss June had a pad of paper that she kept writing on, adding little notes when she asked him questions and just smiling to him all the time. She’d been so nice to him, listening when he’d told her stories about his day and not minding when he hadn’t known the answer to a question. Even when they’d been looking at pictures of people’s faces and she’d asked him what they were feeling, Miss June hadn’t yelled when he’d shrugged at some of them. He’d never been good with people and she didn’t seem to mind.

He’d spent the rest of the day with Miss June in the office working together, some of it he can’t remember. There are vague memories of her asking him questions about how he would react to some situations, and he recalls after a while getting frustrated by some of them.

“Daryl? Don’t you want to answer anymore questions?”

He had shaken his head, slouched back in his seat and started sucking on his thumb. Miss June had sat back, taken up her pad of paper and started writing a lot more after that.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

He remembers not wanting to answer. His tummy had felt tight, fluttery like it was wobbling inside of him. Miss June had still been smiling even if he hadn’t wanted to look at her anymore, and even put down the pen to pick something up. The stuffed dog had been sat on the table before him, Miss June had held it, and when she moved its head, she made it sound like the dog was talking and not her.

It had made things easier somehow and Daryl remembers feeling it was easier to talk to the stuffed dog than it was to talk to Miss June. So when the ‘dog’ asked the same question, he’d given a small shrug before he’d answered. “’s too much.” He’d murmured around his thumb and Miss June had smiled brightly yet again.

“Does sucking on your thumb make you feel better when things get too much?” The stuffed dog had asked and he’d nodded immediately. Miss June had written something else down, but she hadn’t started yelling at him like the teachers always had. He’d never understood why everyone got so mad when he sucked on his thumb, but it had always felt like everybody else hated it.

Their talk had ended after that and Miss June had taken him back to class before she’d spoken to the teacher. Everything after that had been normal until Miss June had given him a letter to take home to his parents. That wasn’t exactly unusual, his teacher had given him a letter to take home almost every week, always complaining about his behaviour to them. Mom and dad had never seemed to care.

But they’d cared about that letter. His dad had especially cared. It hurt to remember all the yelling, and usually he never remembered half the things said to him. But he’d remembered one word and it hadn’t been until later, until Merle had come home, that he could ask about it.

“Merle? What’s a retard?”

His brother had been pissed, but Merle had told him that it meant someone that was really really stupid. That had hurt, and he’d felt horrible, curled up tighter in his bed and tried not to cry. His dad had called him that, snapped and yelled about not wanting a retard for a son and that Daryl had to stop acting so dumb and start behaving normally. It had upset their mom. She hadn’t been around much longer after that.

He’d explained what had happened with the tests and the letter and Merle had said he’d fix it. Daryl had been aware that Merle had found the letter and read it, and like that had been a starting point, that’s when his lessons had begun. Merle had tried to teach him how to be normal as best he could.

It had worked. Kind of. Merle taught him not to suck his thumb anymore, at least not in front of other people. His big brother had let him tag along with him and hang out when he’d never managed to make friends of his own. Things had been alright over the years, he’d learnt his lessons not to ask questions about things he didn’t understand and soon enough he’d learnt that not talking much made people leave him alone easier.

No one else had ever known that he was different. Not until after Merle had come home from prison for the first time.

It had been really difficult because there had been so many new people to get used to. Merle seemed to suddenly have a lot of new friends that had work for him and though Merle never told him the specifics, he knew what they were doing wasn’t legal. So it was a secret, but it was one that made him have to be near a lot of new people that were loud all the time. It had been difficult, and after a few weeks of it, it had all come crashing down on top of him.

Usually whenever they had to go meet up with the ‘boys’ or make a pick up or drop off, Merle did most of it for him. Really Daryl just kind of tagged along, Merle did everything, dealt with the pills, the deals, the fights and the money, and he was just helping by being there. So he used to smoke, usually he’d stay out in the car or on the edge of the room just letting the time go by, but one time, one time Merle had been busy with a girlfriend.

The group had been laughing and joking, dealing out cards and smoking as he’d lingered at the edge of it all. Just waiting for Merle to be finished so they could go home. That’s when there had been a call and suddenly Daryl wasn’t being ignored like he was used to.

“Hey, Dixon. Younger Dixon.” They hadn’t even known his name; he was just Merle’s younger brother. “Your brother’s busy with his girl, you’re taking his delivery for him.”

A packet of something had been thrown at him, shoved at his chest until he’d taken a hold of it. Whatever it was had been tightly sealed, a small rectangular package that felt heavier than it looked. He remembers the panic that had flown through him, from his head to his toes and his stomach had been quivering at the thought of doing such a thing. Merle never let him do those things and honestly, he hadn’t wanted to either.

“I uh…” He remembers stuttering, fumbling over his words and not being able to look up from the other guy’s feet. “Merle don’t let me do trades or nothin’.”

There had been a moment of pause, but then laughter from everybody in the room and he’d felt the shame wash over him at being the butt of a joke. He hadn’t been able to look up from the floor as he’d clung to the package, using it as a lifeline as they’d all mocked him. It wasn’t his fault, he was just being honest and he knew that Merle would smack him upside the head if he went out and did as they were asking.

“What you a pussy? Can’t you think for yourself boy?” They jeer from the couches, tossing down their cards, game of poker now forgotten since they had better sport to play with. Some of the guys were grinning at him, others had a look on their face that reminded him of when cats stalked their prey.

He’d shaken his head in answer, looking at his shoes and trying to give the packet back to the other man. There had been more laughter, they had mocked him, some of them jeering and tossing their poker chips in his direction, making him flinch when one hits his leg. He remembers feeling small, and then there had been the moment that broke him completely.

“You some sort of retard or something Dixon?”

It had felt like it had broken something inside of him and he can remember the tears welling in his eyes so easily after that. He’d shoved the package back at the other man, pushed past him and ignored the jeers and yelling behind him. They’d called him a baby, a wimp, a pussy and so many other things, but that one word had broken him. He’d locked himself in the truck, sliding down to curl up in the foot well of the passenger side and hidden from the world.

Thankfully nobody had followed him and he’d been able to hide there and suck on his thumb until he’d stopped crying like a little baby. But it had been horrible and he remembers the utter hatred for himself that he’d felt when he knew why they’d acted so horrible towards him. They had found out and that’s when things had gone to shit.

He’d stayed there for a long time, until Merle had come out and gotten into the truck, slamming the door behind himself and telling him to shut the fuck up. Merle had been mad, real fucking mad and Daryl can remember it being one of the only times that he’d ever been afraid of his big brother. They’d driven home and Merle had just been awful, throwing shit at the walls, kicking at the furniture and Daryl was sure he knew what the problem was. But he’d hadn’t had the balls to say it, not until a couple of days later when he’d been able to pull his weight and sell some pelts from a decent hunt.

“Merle?” His brother hadn’t looked at him; instead Merle had remained staring at the ceiling, ignoring him and everything else in the world. Merle was always grumpy, but he usually listened to him, or at least looked at him. Daryl had known what had happened, Merle hadn’t been back there since his stupid breakdown, they were low on money and Merle had been complaining about using the last of his pills yesterday. It was obvious, but Daryl had to know. “Did you lose your job because of me?”

Merle had snarled, grabbing up the closest ashtray and hurling it at the wall. It had shattered on impact, and made Daryl flinch. He only hadn’t bolted because he knew he needed to hear Merle say it. “I ain’t working for nobody that calls you that shit.” Merle had barked and that’s when Daryl knew for sure.

Nodding he’d held back his upset over it all and trailed over to Merle, hating how awful he’d felt over being the reason for it all. Merle had always looked after him, he’d gotten him money, and made sure he’d had food and been safe. Heck Merle was the only person that gave a damn about him and that was how he repaid him? It was all his stupid fault, and all because he hadn’t been good enough at hiding away how different he was.

He’d taken the money he’d gotten from selling the pelts, held it out to his brother and tried to make it up to him as best he could. “You can get more drugs if you want.” He remembers shrugging and watching as Merle sat up before him, taking a look over the money before looking up at him. “If it makes you happy.”

Merle had looked at him for a bit and he remembers not being able to read the expression on his face for a while. Then his brother had grabbed his wrist, not the money, and dragged him down to sit beside him. They’d spent the rest of the day talking, Merle telling him he needed to try harder to hide his differences away and Daryl had promised that he would.

Looking back on it now makes him feel even worse. Even back then Merle had been the only one that didn’t care. His brother had stuck by him even after he’d lost his job because of him, and now Daryl didn’t even have that to rely on. Merle was gone, he was on his own and now everybody knew what was wrong with him. Sure nobody had spat the ‘r’ word at him yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be long until they did. They’d laugh at him and mock him, call him a baby and make sure he knew that he was worthless.

It hurts to think about it but he knows it’s coming. Sobbing to himself he buries his face in his hands, sitting on the dock and letting his tears fall as it hits him hard. Everything he’s been trying to build here was going to be taken away from him and it was all his fault. Even after all his years of listening to Merle and trying to hide it away, he’s failed miserably as soon as his brother was gone. It’s not that he’d ever wanted to fall in with these people, but it had happened and he’d just slipped. Without Merle there to remind him, everything had fallen apart and now they knew.

He’d been so stupid, from Carol stroking his hair in the CDC to his breakdown over losing Sophia. Those were the sorts of things Merle had always told him weren’t normal and he’d gone and done them anyway in front of other people. Hiccupping to himself he can feel the tears slip down his cheeks, rolling off his chin to drip into the water below. It’s pathetic, even this was something that other people didn’t do, but he can’t help it. He’s just so upset over it all happening right now and it’s like the end of his world during the end of the world.

They were never going to understand him, they were never going to get why he did the things that he did, but even he didn’t know that. All he knew was that it made him feel better and sometimes it was hard to keep everything all hidden away inside of himself. A tiny bubble inside of him has a spark of hope, niggling away and telling him that they were still talking to him even after seeing all of his differences. But there was a huge leap from seeing what he did, and knowing that it was because he was an idiot.

Reasons made all the difference and they were going to hate him now, especially since the group didn’t seem to think secrets were a good thing.

Wiping at his eyes he tries to stop his tears, because only pussies cried and Dixons weren’t pussies. Nipping at the tip of his thumb he knows he shouldn’t do it, he knows that it really wasn’t something that adults did, but he can’t help it. Shoving his thumb into his mouth he tries to stop his sobs with it, sucking gently on it in a familiar motion and hating just how much better he feels already. It shouldn’t be this way, he’d never heard of anybody else that sucked their thumb except for babies and little kids. But it just feels so right to do it. It helps calm him down, it makes things seem easier, it helps him sleep, and he likes the feel of it. Why was that such a bad thing?

It’s easier for him to calm down like this and before long he’s just sitting and sucking on his thumb as the sun begins to set behind the trees. The world is turning cooler around him, it gets quieter as the birds roost and he hates just how lonely he feels. Honestly he should be used to this feeling and he should like it. But the thing is, he still wants to be able to go back to camp and find someone to sit with like he would after nightmares. He shouldn’t let these people into his life, but they had wormed their way in and now he wanted them there to help him.

It’s all so confusing in his head and he wishes that he had Merle here to help him sort it all out and make everything make sense again.

Maybe he should just leave. If he took his stuff and left the farm now he could be a few miles away by the time it got too dark to continue. Then he wouldn’t even be able to go to them if he wanted to. But then he’d be alone. He didn’t do so good when he was alone.

The thought of it being just himself out there terrifies him and he knows that it’s not really an option. He needed people, but these people were probably figuring out that they didn’t need him. Who wanted an idiot around when they were in danger every single day? It hurts, but he knows he’s going to have to go back to camp eventually and beg for them not to kick him out.

“Daryl?”

He’s not surprised that it’s Carol that has come to yell at him. She had no reason to want him to stay with the group, not after he had failed her so badly by failing to find Sophia. Hanging his head low, Daryl listens as Carol walks closer to him, her boots tapping against the dock before he can feel her presence behind him. It makes him shiver and he hunches over himself a little more when she places a soft hand to his shoulder, making him flinch and let out a small hiccup at being touched.

It wasn’t fair; he liked Carol and that made it hurt so much more to have her be the one they’d sent to yell at him. She was always so sweet and kind to him, but lately she’d been a ghost around camp, floating about silently, never staying in one place for long and just looking lost. He’d avoided her; he’d been afraid to go to her and now it had all led to this.

Carol kneels down beside him and he’s worried that she’s going to shove him right off the dock and into the lake, hold him under and drown him to get revenge for his failure. But that’s not in her nature, Carol is too sweet and soon enough she’s sitting by his side properly with a tiny smile to him. “Come on, if you leave your feet in the water much longer they’ll freeze right off.” She tells him, and then her soft hands are reaching out to tug his legs back up out the water and onto the dock.

He hiccups a little around his thumb, feeling more tears build up as she takes off her over shirt and uses it to dry his feet off. He doesn’t deserve her kindness and he feels awful when she begins lifting his feet and tugging on his socks for him. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but right now he just doesn’t want to annoy her anymore that he already has. Lifting his free hand he wipes at his face, trying to stop himself from looking quite so pathetic. It doesn’t work and after tugging on his last sock Carol sits back to look at him.

“Daryl? Are you okay?” She asks him and her voice is so sweet, so soft and caring that it breaks him all over again.

The tears fall again, and he hates how weak he sounds when he finally gets the nerve to apologise. “I’m sorry.” He manages to whisper around his thumb, and Carol’s hand reaches out to take a gentle hold of his free one.

“What for?” She asks him.

It hurts to have to say it and he can’t look up at her when he does mumble her name. “Sophia…”

There is a moment between them where Carol drops her own head, her chin hitting her chest, but there are no tears. Maybe she’s cried herself out already, maybe she’s just gotten stronger, or maybe he just doesn’t understand yet again. But she doesn’t let go of his hand until he looks up and when their eyes meet, Carol is anything but angry.

“That wasn’t your fault.” Carol tells him and immediately he’s shaking his head, dropping his thumb from his mouth and trying to explain.

“I should have found her, if I hadn’t hurt myself-“

“Stop it.” Carol tells him. She doesn’t ask, she tells with a firmness to her voice that he hasn’t heard her use before. It’s not mean, it’s just firm and it makes him stop and listen immediately. “Stop it now. What’s happened happened. There’s nothing we can do to fix it.” Her fingers squeeze around his own and she’s got a tiny smile on her lips. It’s encouraging, and Daryl takes a small shaky breath before letting it out, reaching up to wipe at the remaining tear tracks on his cheeks. “All we can do is focus on the future. Understand?”

It feels like it’s too easy, and that he shouldn’t be forgiven just like that. It’s been almost a week, but it all still feels so raw and fresh in his mind. He remembers her stumbling out of the barn and it makes him shiver, it makes him squeeze at Carol’s fingers in return. “Yes.” He nods, because if she could be strong then he could too, even through his own fears. Carol was giving him a second chance here and it would be rude to shove that away.

So he nods and calms himself down, getting back to a stable level before letting go of her hand and grabbing his boots. Yanking them on he ties them tightly, sniffing back the last of his upset and nodding to her again when he’s feeling better.

Carol smiles to him brightly, standing up and offering him a hand. He ignores it and get to his own feet, snatching up his bow and tugging it over his shoulder. “Now, are you going to come inside for dinner with everybody?” She asks him and he’s a little unsure as to what she means.

“Everybody?”

“Yes.” She smiles, already leading them back up the dock and onto dry land. “Hershel wants us all to move into the house with them for safety. Said that Maggie was talking to him earlier and made him see sense.”

Daryl knows he should be happy, but there’s the weight still on his mind that sent him out here in the first place. Rick had told everybody, and they all knew about him. Chewing on his lower lip he wonders if it might be better for him to separate himself from the group again like before. They could all move into the house, but maybe he should stay in his tent and out of the way.

“I don’t…I don’t know if anyone’s gonna want to see me.” He points out, eyes down on the floor and thumb coming up to his mouth so he can bite on his nails.

“Why not Daryl?”

Kicking at the grass he can’t look at her when he speaks. He’d have thought it was obvious, but if he had to say it then he would. “I…Rick he…Everybody knows about…”

“You think that matters?” Carol interrupts, putting a hand to his shoulder and stopping him in his tracks. They pause, midway up the path to the farm. It seems to glow in the distance, the soft lights making it look so homely, almost heavenly when they were used to sleeping in tents. A part of him felt like he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it so badly, just as much as he wanted to be a part of the group waiting inside.

Sure he remembers Merle’s lessons, he remembers being told to hide it all away but the thing is, he still wants to be here with them since he didn’t have Merle. He wants to have them like him, he wants to be accepted and a part of the group. And he likes that they didn’t seem to mind that he was weird. Or at least they hadn’t cared before.

“I don’t know.” He admits with a shrug.

“Hey.” And Carol is there, turning to face him with one hand on his shoulder and the other cupping at his cheek. He can’t help but flinch away from her, but she doesn’t give up on him and holds him steady when she speaks. “It doesn’t change a thing Daryl. Not a thing. We still care about you, and we all still want you here with us.” She tells him, stroking his cheek, being nothing but soothing for him when he’s still feeling so on edge and scared. She smiles to him, and he can manage a shaky smile in return. “Now why don’t we go inside and have some dinner?”

He wants to. He really does but he’s so afraid that if nothing else there was definitely a good reason for them to not want him to join them. “I yelled at T-Dog and Glenn.” He admits, hanging his head in shame.

Carol lifts him back up, and she’s got that tiny smile on her lips when she speaks. “Then you apologise to them first and we move on.” She explains, stroking over his skin before moving to stroke at his hair. He remembers when his mother had used to do the same thing when he was upset and it helps.

Taking a breath he knows he can do that. But then there was the other problem. “I yelled at Carl too.”

She gives a small laugh, it’s bright and like a light in the darkness. Even if he’s ashamed of himself, she acts like it’s nothing, no big deal and that it can be fixed so easily. “Then you can say sorry to him as well.” She points out before leaning forwards to press a gentle kiss to his temple. It makes him blush a little, and helps to stop his stomach from squirming so much in worry.

Carol takes his hand in hers, just holding it gently as they walk towards the farm together. It helps. He feels calmer, he feels like she’s there for him and even if he’s scared about what everybody is going to say and do to him, it feels like at least he’s already got one person on his side.

“Will you sit next to me at dinner?” He asks her and Carol is still smiling as they climb the steps to the farmhouse as a pair.

“Of course.”


	12. Feeling your way

It’s not easy walking up the steps of the farmhouse. Carol holds his hand tightly, there as an anchor for him to hang onto as they head inside. His bike is sitting with the cars next to the porch, ready for a quick escape and the RV is parked up alongside he front, ready to be used as a lookout if needed. Chewing on his thumbnail Daryl clings to Carol as they move inside, not moving away from her and letting her close the door behind them before giving a quick squeeze to his hand.

“It’s okay. Its just dinner.” Carol reassures him but it doesn’t feel like enough and the squirming in his stomach continues despite her tries to help. Still he nods, tries to give her a smile to show he appreciates it and lets her lead the way into the dining room.

Everybody is in there, crammed around a couple of tables, people on mismatched chairs and furniture used as makeshift benches. They’re all on top of each other but no one is complaining, in fact they’re all smiling and passing over bowls of food to each other. It’s so foreign to him, to get to see something like this and he feels out of place, especially when they turn to see them enter the room. He knows he’s hiding behind Carol but he doesn’t care, because this is all a bit too overwhelming.

Carol moves forward, nodding politely to everybody and tugging him along behind herself, not making a big deal of it and they scoot along the edge of the crammed room until they can make it to the two seats clearly left for them. He’s on a stool next to Carol, wedged between her and Shane, feeling uncomfortable and out of place, barely able to peek up from his fidgeting fingers to see where everybody else was. The Greenes are sitting with the Grimes family at the other table, all chatting and having a pleasant time, but all he can see is Carl and that makes him feel guilty.

Glenn and T-Dog are at the same table as him and Daryl feels his stomach clench in worry as Glenn catches his eye. He doesn’t know what to do or say, his mouth feels full of fluff, his stomach is tight and he can’t keep his leg steady as it jiggles beneath the table. It bounces up and down, giving his nervous energy an outlet as he’s pinned at the table with all of them. This feels an awful lot like being trapped and he’s really on edge about it all.

He ain’t never had this before. Can’t remember the last time he ever ate a proper meal at a proper table with other people. Usually it was just eaten wherever and whenever, cutlery was a luxury and even before the walkers outbreak he and Merle hadn’t been the types to have a proper sit down meal. If it wasn’t takeaways then it was hunted food, cooked enough not to kill you and eaten with his fingers, picked clean from the bone usually. So this whole thing was damned foreign to him.

Everyone else looks comfortable as hell when he glances up to check on them all. There’s the bubbling noise of conversation around him, even Carol is chatting to Andrea and leaving him feeling pretty damned isolated, even if her hand is still holding his beneath the table. Swallowing back the nerves, Daryl keeps to himself, letting his free hand go to his mouth and chewing on his thumbnail instead of trying to join in.

“Hey you alright there bud?” Comes a voice beside him and Shane is placing a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, getting his attention and fortunately keeping his voice low when he speaks.

Giving a loose shrug Daryl squeezes at Carol’s hand, she squeezes back before letting go, carrying on her conversation with Andrea and clearly knowing that he’s alright for the minute. “I guess so.” He tells Shane, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting any more attention than he’s getting already.

Shane taps at Daryl’s plate with his own fork, nudging at the food placed on there neatly and raising an eyebrow in his direction. “You gonna eat some dinner?” The ex-cop asks him.

“I’m not hungry.” Daryl tells him, even if he hasn’t really eaten all day. Right now he doesn’t want to make his already squirming stomach feels any worse, but it seems that Shane isn’t having that.

“Sure you are.” Shane smiles to him, nudging at his side lightly and acting like it’s a joke. Thing is Daryl isn’t joking, but Shane is nice about it. He keeps his voice quiet, not calling him out in front of everybody else, just stating the facts as he picks up the fork besides Daryl’s plate and passes it to him. “Come on now Hershel and his family want us to feel welcome. They even killed us a couple of chickens as a treat.” Shane points out and Daryl has to admit that he’s looking forward to getting meat that wasn’t squirrel. “Eat up now, can’t have you getting weak.”

Well Daryl doesn’t want that. He wouldn’t be of any use to anybody if he got weak, if he lost his muscle tone and couldn’t fight for them, he might as well be nothing more than a liability. Taking up the fork he holds it in his fist, cutting at the chicken on his plate with the side of it before shovelling a bite in his mouth. It’s nice, it’s definitely not squirrel, and Daryl can only give a shy smile in Shane’s direction as he starts to actually eat the meal before him.

It’s different to anything else he’s ever known, but from the way everybody else is acting, this is probably what was normal before the world went to shit. Everyone is talking to each other, laughing and smiling and there is no tension or worries about the outside world. Daryl still can’t quite get himself to stop fidgeting, his leg is still rocking back and forth and since Carol is occupied it’s Shane’s hand that pats at his own occasionally when he’s unsure and lost. He’s still not fully comfortable, but he’s getting there and that feels like a step in the right direction.

These people were and family. Some of them actually related, some of them family through years of friendship, others brought in by circumstance. But it worked and Daryl was hoping that he’d be able to find his place in it all before long.

After everybody has eaten he helps to clear up as much as he can, even if Carol and Lori shoo him out from the kitchen and tell him they’ve got it covered. Awkwardly he hovers about the place, unsure as to what he can do to help when Dale’s got lookout duty covered and everybody else seems busy setting up bedrooms and everything.

Fidgeting with his own belongings, Daryl wastes time going through everything if only to keep his fingers busy when he’s so unsure of how to approach giving an apology. Rubbing the fabric of Merle’s shirt between his fingers, he glances up when Glenn approaches him, feeling his heart jump to his throat in worry about it all. Thing is he’s not sure what the hell to say, Glenn smiles to him but it doesn’t make him feel much better and the other man barely has his mouth open when Daryl interrupts him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you before. Earlier. I…” He stumbles over his words, clutching at Merle’s shirt in his fist, feeling on edge and not wanting to make things any worse than they already are between them. “I’m not so nice when I’m upset.” He admits, hanging his head in shame, feeling awful and remembering how damned hurt Glenn had looked before at the fence. “I’m sorry. Sorry Glenn.” And raising his voice a little he turns to where T-Dog is in the hall and makes sure he can hear him. “And I’m sorry to T-Dog too.” He tells him, able to feel the flush of worry over the back of his neck.

He’s surprised to see that Glenn doesn’t look too angry. Sure he’s not the best at reading people’s faces, but he knows angry and Glenn isn’t it. Instead the other man is sort of smiling, but it’s lopsided and sort of quirky instead of a pretend smile. It seems real, and it kind of helps the butterflies in his tummy stop fluttering quite so much.

“Daryl, it’s okay. Really you don’t need to apologise.” Glenn reassures him, reaching out a hand to pat at Daryl’s shoulder and Glenn is always so nice and safe that Daryl doesn’t even flinch. “We were the ones that upset you and we’re sorry for that. It wasn’t our intention, not at all.”

“Yeah we’re sorry Daryl.” T-Dog comes over, giving a grin to him as he carries bags back and forth into the room. “No hard feelings, we cool bro?” Then T-Dog holds out his hand in a fist and for a moment Daryl is confused at the gesture. But then Glenn reaches out to bump it with his own, and Daryl copies, leaving the three of them smiling and apparently all made up. It felt good.

Getting back to sorting out the bags, he barely notices as Carol approaches him, that small knowing smile on her lips as she reaches him. When she stands beside him she bumps their shoulders together, it’s a small gesture but it’s nice, it’s simple and fun, and he can see the intended care behind it. “Saw you talking to Glenn and T-Dog. Good job.” She tells him, and when her hand comes out to pat at the small of his back it makes him flush at the praise given to him.

“Ain’t nothin’.” He huffs, rolling out a bed roll on the floor by the front window, preparing himself for a night of sleep on the wooden floor. It’s not that he minds, he’s had worse. Honestly he’s just looking forward to sleeping inside four walls and under a roof, that’s more than comfortable enough for him.

“What’re you doing?” Carol asks him and he’s a little confused when it’s pretty obvious.

“Huh?”

“You’re not planning on sleeping on the floor are you?” She chuckles, arms folded as she watches him fidget with his belongings and trying to get the sheets to lie flat.

Looking down he check she’s not done anything wrong, but as far as he can see it all makes sense. He’s got his bags with all his things, including the crossbow, next to his bed roll. It’s all laid out proper enough for him and heck it’s neat enough surely? He’s not in the way of anybody else, and he knows the bedding was brought in here for them to use. “Thought we was allowed to sleep inside tonight? Moving in and stuff?” He points out, looking up to her from his knees and finding that Carol is still smiling brightly to him, soft and gentle as she explains.

“Yes but you have a space in a room Daryl. A bedroom. With a bed and everything.” When she says it it’s a joke, and though she’s explaining as if he’s a child he knows it’s not in a condescending way, but in a playful manner. She’s teasing him, helping him to his feet and shaking her head at his antics. He likes it; it’s nice to have someone speaking to him so easily.

Shrugging a little he chews on his thumbnail, nodding to the people still milling about the room. The Greene girls are handing out sheets and pillows, they’ve brought in stuff from the RV and their own supplies, but everybody is making do as they have to these days. “But there’s a lot of us.” He points out, nudging the stuff he’s put on the floor again. “I don’t mind sleepin’ on the floor so everybody else can have a bed.”

“We’ve got space.” Carol tells him, and when she sees the disbelief on his face, she’s explaining. “Rick and Lori have a room, Maggie is sharing with Beth and Patricia for the time being since for obvious reasons Hershel isn’t going to be letting Glenn move into her room just yet. So he’s sharing with Jimmy and T-Dog. Shane is down here on the couch, Hershel has a pull out couch; Dale wants to stay in the RV for the moment. Andrea and I have a spare bed in the dining area we can share and you and Carl have an old couple of single mattresses in Hershel’s office. It’ll be a bit tight and I’m sure we’ll get sick of being on top of one another soon enough, but we’ll definitely be safer in here.”

It makes sense he supposes, except for one thing.

“Um, I don’t mind sleeping here though.” He points out, eyes focussed on the bedroll at his feet instead of on Carol. She notices and really he shouldn’t be shocked that she’s soon nudging him with her shoulder again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Told you before.” He mumbles, using his thumb to obscure the words, a trick he’s learned over the years that usually got people to ignore him when they couldn’t understand what he was saying. Carol isn’t put off though and Daryl almost rolls his eyes when she only frowns and nudges at him again for an explanation. “I yelled at Carl.”

She’s smiling again, so motherly as she reaches out to tuck his hair from his face and trying to get it to stay behind his ear. “Did you apologise to him yet?” Carol asks him and he has to shake his head in answer, shuffling on his feet and feeling a bit silly for not doing as she’d said. But it was different with Carl. Carl was a kid, maybe he wouldn’t understand as easily as Glenn and T-Dog had.

“Not really.” He mumbles around his thumb, and he’s surprised when Carol begins picking up his bag, his bedroll and his bow and handing them all to him until he’s got his belongings on his shoulders and is ready to move.

“If you’re worried about him being angry at you, he’s not.” Carol lets him know, already beginning to push him in the direction of Hershel’s office and nodding for him to so as she urges and move. “You know he was the one who asked me to come and find you? He was worried about you being upset and wanted to make sure you came in to have dinner, and he was the one who asked to share a room with you.”

“Really?” Because he didn’t think Carl would want to even look at him, let along want to make sure he was safe and fed. When he’d been younger if Merle had yelled at him and pissed him off, he used to give him the silent treatment and ignore him until Merle made it up to him. Carl was clearly more mature than he’d been at that age.

“Yes.” Now Carol sounds exasperated, but it’s with a friendly shove that she pushes him down the hallway, smile on her face and making a shooing motion with her hands towards him. “So take your stuff, go to your room, tell him you’re sorry and get settled in for the night.”

“Yes ma’am.” Daryl nods with a small smile at calling her such a thing, before heading to the office he’d been in this morning to have his stitches removed. It’s small but more cosy than cramped, with the desk pushed up beneath the window and a couple of thin single mattresses on the floor now there is more space. The only other thing in the room is the bookshelf he’d seen before, animal and medical books stacked up high on top of one another.

One of the mattresses is already made up, pale sheets tugged over it and folded neatly, clearly done by a mother looking after her child and not a young teenage boy. Tossing his backpack and crossbow to the floor beside his mattress, Daryl begins making up his own bed, it’s nowhere near as neat as Carl’s but he doesn’t mind. All he needs is a flat surface and he can sleep, so getting clean, fresh sheets and a soft pillow is more than enough for him. It’s actually pretty homely and Daryl has to admit this is probably one of the nicest places he’s ever had the chance to sleep in before.

He’s just about settled when he hears the voices coming down the hall, Carl and Lori by the sounds of it and though he doesn’t intend to overhear it, when he hears his own name he can’t help but listen in.

“Carl I know you want your own room but I’d feel much better if you shared the room with me and your daddy.”

“Mom I’m too old for that now, besides I’ll be okay, I’ve got Daryl.”

“I know baby, but did you ever think that Daryl might not want to share a room with you? You didn’t ask him, you just assumed he’d be okay with it.”

“Mom, Daryl’s a cool guy, I want to share with him and he won’t mind, he doesn’t mind hanging out with me. He’s not like the other grown ups, please let me share with him? Please?”

There’s a sigh and Daryl knows that Lori is probably rolling her eyes and trying to get her son to listen to her. But Carl is as stubborn as she is and even if he really isn’t a part of the conversation, Daryl wants to let her know that he doesn’t mind sharing with the kid at all. Getting to his feet he makes sure to make a bit of noise as he walks to the door, meeting them head on as they go to enter and trying to smile brightly to them even if there is still some guilt churning in his gut.

He wants to be calm and collected, he wants to know what to say but really he’s pretty lost and all he can manage is a small, “Hi.”

But Carl grins to him, that hat on his head the whole time as he looks up and the kid takes whatever nerves Daryl’s got and gets rid of them in a few moments. “Daryl you like our room right? It’s a bit small, but it’s better than a tent right?” The kids asks him, grin on his face and jumping over to the beds, looking accomplished as he stands on his own and rumples the previously neat and tidy sheets.

Daryl can’t help but smile at the kid’s antics, somehow Carl always managed to make him feel calmer, more at ease and not so out of place. It’s like no matter how much of the world was against him, Carl was always going to be on his side and that feels pretty good to know. “Yeah it’s pretty cool.” He agrees with a nod, chewing on his lower lip lightly when Lori leans in the doorway.

“Carl asked if he could share a room with you Daryl. Said he’s too old to share with me and Rick.” She explains, looking like an exasperated mother but it’s clearly hard for her to keep the small smile off her face at her son’s antics. Daryl doesn’t remember his mother much, but he’s sure she probably had a look like that on her face more often than not.

“I am mom.”

Lori rolls her eyes at Carl’s tone of voice and the way he’s got his arms folded like he’s made his choice already. “But don’t feel that you have to Daryl, you can have the room to yourself if you want.” She continues, and when she looks over him, Daryl can see how understanding she is. It’s like Lori was made to be a mother and Daryl appreciates that, it was a tougher job than any other and he knows she’s got to be strong to deal with that. But she deserved a break sometimes, and besides Carl was plenty old enough to not have to share with his parents.

“I don’t mind sharing with Carl.” Daryl points out. “Used to share a room with Merle all the time, kinda used to having someone else there to be honest.” He shrugs, sharing a smile with Carl before continuing with Lori. “If it’s alright with you of course?” Because he knows that she’s still the decision maker here.

There’s a moment where she looks a little unsure, the fear that this new world has put into all of them creeping up in her mind. Daryl can understand that panic, he feels it every night when he misses Merle, and he knows the want to keep family close was tough to ignore. So he wouldn’t be offended if Lori still said no, but he does know that Carl would be annoyed.

He can see it in the kid’s eyes when he steps closer again, clinging to his mother’s side and looking up to her with pleading eyes. “See mom? Daryl doesn’t mind.” Carl tells her, and Daryl swears he’s used the same tactics on Merle before to get his own way. “Please?”

Lori runs her hands through her hair but gives a small sigh that Daryl knows means she’s given in. “Well I guess I can’t stop you. But no staying up all night talking, I know you guys want to hang out, but you do have to get some sleep and be ready for chores the next day.” She teases a little.

Carl grins, hugging around his mother’s waist before letting go, moving away from her to surprisingly, grab at Daryl’s hand instead. “We know mom.” Carl rolls his eyes a little, giving a shake of his head to Daryl as if he understood where he was coming from. Then he’s tugging on Daryl’s hand and yanking for him to follow him back through the house. “Come on Daryl, we’re having a game night in celebration of moving in to the house. You can be on my team, it’s only monopoly and board games, but it’s better than reading a book.”

Daryl is dragged down the hallway with Lori giving a small laugh before she makes her way upstairs to her and Rick’s room, no doubt going to settle in and share the news with her husband. It leaves Daryl with Carl, and before they can reach the main room, Daryl is tugging on the kid’s hand and making him stop for just a moment. “Hey hold up a minute kid.” He mutters and yet again those nerves are starting up inside his tummy.

Chewing on his lower lip he’s not sure where to start again. Carol had said that Carl would forgive him and sure the kid didn’t seem to have a problem with him, was even willing to share a room with him and everything. But that didn’t mean he didn’t need to apologise. Was only right after all.

Taking half a step back from the kid he can’t help but chew on his lower lip, hands twisting together, fingers fidgeting and cracking his knuckles in the silence as the kid waits for him to speak up. It’s difficult, he’s never been so good with people, or emotions, or talking, so this is like his worst things combined into one. But Carl is patient with him, the kid waits, rocks back and forth on his feet and doesn’t force him to hurry up and get the words out, even if Daryl is holding them up from game night.

Clearing his throat, Daryl can’t raise his gaze from the floor between his feet, and his voice is no more than a mumble when he tries to talk, but he’s trying. That’s got to count for something, right? “Carl, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier today.” He begins, and he can feel the kid watching him as he apologises. “I was just upset and sometimes when I get upset, I’m an asshole. But that ain’t an excuse, I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you. It weren’t your fault I was upset and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you at all.” The nerves jump inside of his stomach, but he knows he’s done it right.

There’s a worry in the back of his mind that Carl is going to change his mind and not want to be his friend anymore, or at least not want to share a room with him. But the kid surprises him, and when Carl moves forward, wraps his arms around his middle in the same way he’d done to his mother earlier, Daryl isn’t sure how to react.

“It’s okay Daryl, I knew you were upset. I just wanted to help, wanted to make sure you were okay, but mom told me sometimes people like to be alone when they’re upset.” Carl tells him, voice a little muffled in the hug, spoken into Daryl’s shirt as Carl presses against his chest. The kid doesn’t let go of him, not even when it becomes obvious that Daryl has no idea what he’s doing, standing stock still with his arms rigid by his side as he tries to figure out if he was allowed to hug Carl back. There is a moment of silence between them, a little awkward on his behalf, but Carl doesn’t seem to notice it as he asks. “Are you feeling better now?”

It’s a loaded question, well Carl probably never intended it that way, but it was to Daryl. Was he feeling better now? He’s not sure. He still doesn’t feel like he fits in completely, there has always been a bubble around him compared to everybody else and he feels it more and more with each day that passes. There’s no way he can ever be normal like the rest of them, he’s learned that over the years, but he knows he also can’t keep hiding it. Rick had told them all, they all knew about him being different and now he had to deal with that.

He didn’t feel good about it. Nobody else had ever known about it before and it would be strange trying to come to terms with everybody knowing why he acted the way he did. So far nobody had treated him too different from normal, Glenn and T-dog had said sorry back to him, Andrea had been sweet, the only one who had been a bit different was Dale, but one out of a whole group wasn’t bad. Carol was always nice to him, and Lori too and really maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But he can’t help but worry about it. People were difficult for him, he remembers Miss June, he remembers talking about people and why he didn’t like group work in school, or why he never liked reading aloud or why he didn’t want any friends. Back then it was too complicated for him to understand, but now he gets why it’s so hard for him. Because he doesn’t understand how they work compared to himself.

Like now with Carl hugging him, arms wrapped around his waist and buried into his chest. He knows people liked hugs, especially kids like Carl. But he liked them too, they made him feel better when he was sad, he felt safer whenever Merle used to hug him and he liked being curled into someone else’s warmth like that. He knew he wasn’t meant to feel like that, because he wasn’t a kid, he wasn’t a kid anymore and he was meant to have grown out of it. But they knew he was different now, they knew he didn’t work the same as everybody else, so maybe it was okay?

Curling his arms around Carl’s back, Daryl hugs him in return, able to feel the kid’s smile through his shirt and it makes him feel better. Carl didn’t care, and right now it meant a lot. If nothing else, right now he had Carl to help him.

“Yeah.” He finally replies, giving the kid a quick squeeze in the hug before pulling back to give a half smile down to him. “I guess I am feeling better now.” Because Carl was trying for him and he should try back.

Carl moves back to look up at him, smile still on his face as he nods to Daryl in understanding. “Good, I don’t like when you’re upset. But you know if you ever want to, you can talk to me right? If it helps you feel better.” The kid offers and it’s so honest and heartfelt that Daryl has to nod even if he doesn’t think the kid needs to hear about all the problems in his head.

“I know, thanks Carl.” Daryl tells him instead, tilting his head in the direction of the living room for Carl to lead him on. “Come on, I ain’t never played these games before. You’re gonna have to teach me.”

It’s enough to get the kid excited again and change the subject, so it’s not long before Daryl finds himself dragged into the living area. “You can be on my team, I’ll teach you how to play, and how to win too.” Carl tells him.

Everybody is in the main room, it’s a bit crammed, people are sitting close together and Daryl has to give Carol a small smile as he squeezes past to sit on the floor beside the coffee table with Carl. The game is all set up, Glenn, Beth, Jimmy, Maggie and Andrea all sitting around the edge and inviting them in warmly. Honestly Daryl doesn’t do much to help out, Carl is really playing the game and he’s just there nodding along with his choices and holding onto cards and money for him, but it’s actually kinda fun.

Sitting like this he can sit and just exist around these people without worrying about them watching his every move and judging him. They don’t care, they’re just chatting together, laughing over Glenn going bankrupt and there’s the gentle murmur of the other conversations going on across the room. Daryl wonders if this is what a normal home sounded like, no screaming, no yelling, no gunfire when his dad got drunk enough to try and shoot the old TV set when his team were losing. It feels nice, alive and comfortable. Such a contrast to the world out there inhabited by walkers and the dead. He likes it.

It kind of feels like this place, these people, it could be home.

He sits and plays with them all for a while, listening to Carl and hiding the ‘get out of jail free’ card in his pocket like his partner tells him to and they share a small laugh over him musing if he could get a real one for Merle when they find him. Carl does a great job at taking his mind off of his worries, and he’s getting pretty involved in the game when Rick and Lori finally come back downstairs. Carl grins to his parents, and Daryl barely takes notice of them until Rick clears his throat and calls for everybody’s attention as they stand in a room full of seated people.

Looking up he wonders what they want to talk about, the last time Glenn had wanted to talk to everybody it hadn’t turned out so good and he can feel himself tense up a little in worry. But Carl looks intrigued, so does everybody else, so he listens and he’s still not sure if it’s good or bad news when the Grimes couple speak.

“I’m pregnant.”

“We’re going to have a baby.”

There is a moment of silence, and Daryl glances around to try and take his cues from everybody else. They all seem as unsure as he does, well except for Carl. The kid is up on his feet and running over to his parents, wrapping his arms around them both and clearly excited about being a big brother. Daryl can understand that and he figures it must be good news when everybody else starts saying congratulations and getting up to hug the couple of offer Rick handshakes. Maybe he should do the same, but he figures offering a smile their way is more than enough. So it’s good news, it was usually good news when people were going to have a baby; of course it was good news. He should know that much.

But if it was good news, then why did Shane look so upset?


	13. Trying times

Carl hasn’t stopped going on and on about being a big brother for the past few weeks. Daryl watches everyday as the kid bounces around the farm, clinging to his mother, pressing to her stomach as if he could feel the baby already and grinning all the while. Honestly he doesn’t really get it. Being the baby of his own family means he’s never actually been around many kids, or babies, or pregnant women before.

The Dixon family consisted of himself, Merle, their parents and his half uncle Jesse, but that was all. If his grandparents had been alive when he’d been born he’d never met them or heard of them, and he knows his mother had pretty much left her family behind when she’d married his father. Maybe it’s why he’s never been so good with people, because there have never been a lot of them in his life for him to get used to them.

But he’s trying his best.

Their ramshackled together family is working out how to live with each other slowly. It takes a while, with a few fights, some squabbles, and there are a few spats just because of the tension of living on top of one another day in and day out. But they’re surviving and in a way despite the cramped conditions, the having to line up for the bathroom in the mornings and the smaller portions of food to make it stretch further; Daryl actually likes it all. He thinks this is what being alive should feel like.

There are still walkers sometimes. They linger on the edge of the farm, sometimes they end up against the fences, growling at the cows and gurgling on their own bodily fluids as they decompose, but every day they scout the fences, take them out and burn them. It’s a good way to make it work and in a way it helps them all learn about how to cope with the walkers. Those who were fearful knew it was a good thing to be afraid, but you had to learn to control it, and work with it to take down the walkers. Screaming did nothing, crying did nothing, only action would have any affect and they were learning what to do.

Everyone has a knife from the kit Carl had found on the highway. The Greene family and friends use their own kitchen knives or pocketknives they’ve had to use before for work around the farm. Some of them aren’t so sure about using them, but Rick is right about conserving ammo, and knives were silent, they were just as deadly and more than capable of going through a walker’s skull. Sure it was gross getting that close to the rotting corpses, but it helped them train, it helped them learn and get over the initial want to run away from the danger that surrounds them.

Daryl can’t say that he likes all of the changes in this new world, but there are some things about it he kind of likes. It’s almost as if someone had wiped the slate clean and the world had reorganised itself to having those with his set of skills out on top. He’s lived his life knowing he wasn’t smart, knowing that his brain didn’t work the same as everybody else’s and that meant he didn’t fit in the world. Or at least, he wasn’t meant to succeed in the world.

Now though, now the world has changed and people were turning to him for advice. He wasn’t just good at surviving on little food and without the creature comforts of home; he was great at all of it. Merle had always said if school had tests in hunting he’d have been top of the class, and now it was all paying off. It’s not like he’s glad that there are walkers, but maybe he’s just not as unprepared and upset as everybody else about having to live day by day. He’d known he was never gonna get to have a proper job, and money was something he had to hide in his pillow to stop Merle and his dad from stealing it to get their next bottle or blow. So he’d gotten used to the life of a drifter, hanging around with Merle, sleeping where he had to and just getting by.

Everything was different now and it’s taking him some time to get used to it.

Their group was asking him for advice and he’s never ever had that before. And it’s not even pretend asking like a joke, like when Merle would be high and ask him what to do about getting his latest girlfriend off, it’s real asking for an answer. The first few times it happens, he’s really confused and even though Andrea stands before him, waiting for him to talk, it’s like the words get caught in his throat. He stutters and stumbles, thumb half way to his mouth as she watches him, trying to work it all out in his head and if she was going to laugh at him. But she doesn’t, she waits, smiles encouragingly and even has the decency not to mock him for his stupidity.

“Please Daryl? Shane has been teaching me how to shoot and use my knife, but I need to know more than how to take out walkers.” She tells him, gun in place on her belt alongside her knife, ready for action just like she said. “Would you teach me how to hunt?”

He still can’t quite find the words, so he gives a half shrug, shuffles for a moment and watches his toes when he replies. “I’m not smart. Ain’t no teacher.”

Andrea seems confused, tilts her head and Daryl can almost feel Dale watching them talk from the roof of the RV. The old man has been frowning more often, he usually seems angry with everyone, but not yelling angry, quiet angry. The kind of quiet angry that had made Daryl know not to talk to his dad and to go out and hunt for a few hours until things were calmer. He doesn’t want Dale to be angry with him, so he just tries to stay away from the other man.

“Why don’t you think about it?” Andrea soothes him, that small smile at the corner of her lips that helps Daryl tummy stop feeling so tight. “I just think it would be a good idea if more of us knew how to hunt, we can’t always be relying on canned food.”

When she leaves to go talk to Dale, there is a stride in her step that he’s not sure he likes. It’s like an angry walk, almost a stomp and he feels bad that maybe he put it there. So he goes to patrol the perimeter of the farm again, checking the fences and taking out the one walker that gets too close. It’s hard to get used to people, especially these people that maybe kind of liked him and were making a family around him.

The farm is nice, it really is, but it’s so different from what he’s used to. Everything here works. They have power from Hershel’s old generator, fresh water from the wells and everything here almost feels as if the end of the world never happened. It’s strange because everybody else seems to fall into place so easily. Lori and Carol talk about recipes with Patricia, they do laundry and smile and the house is clean and neat and tidy around them despite everybody’s things being brought inside. Sometimes it reminds him of when he was really little, and he swears he can remember their house being like this once, not so big, and there was only his mom in the kitchen, but it had been nice. Or maybe it was just a silly dream he’d pretended to be true.

They are all learning how to be useful here. Hershel has plenty of tasks around the place for them to help out with and while most of the women take on the housework, he finds most of the guys helping out around the farm. They’re tidying up the barn to give the cattle somewhere safe to sleep protected from walkers, they’re rebuilding and adding more fences, and it’s really kind of becoming more than a house. It’s starting to feel what he thinks a home should feel like.

Hershel is teaching them how to be farmers too, teaching them about which soil is decent to be seeded, letting them help with the daily labour of farm work and keeping everything running. There are vegetables to tend to, some to replant, others to rid of a caterpillar infestation. He makes quick and easy snares to keep the wild rabbits off, and can’t help but blush when Hershel tells him it’s a good idea. Getting them two types of food in one move. He never thought it was clever, just knew rabbits liked vegetables but they needed them more, so they had to keep them off.

Everybody is doing their part and he likes that they all work as a team. Glenn and Maggie go off to do the runs for more supplies, sometimes using the horses, other times using the cars. Dale and T-Dog switch up lookout duty, using the RV parked up front of the house to keep an eye on things, switching the rifle between them for safety’s sake. The rest of them don’t have guns. Hershel doesn’t like it, and after the barn and stuff, Daryl can kind of understand why. Well he understands why Hershel says no, but he doesn’t like them not having any protection. It makes him feel uneasy, and he ends up spending a whole day worrying that he’s going to have his crossbow taken away from him because he knows it’s a dangerous weapon too.

Fortunately it hadn’t happened. There had been a tight, tense feeling around the house after that first night, and Hershel had come down the next morning and made his rules very clear. No guns on the farm, only if they’re on perimeter duty or leaving the premises were they allowed to have them. They were dangerous and he didn’t want his family around them. The gun bag is taken, locked away inside a closet in Hershel’s bedroom and it leaves Rick looking like he wants to sigh and Shane stomping down the front steps when he says he “needs some air.”

He’s chewing on his thumb, strap from the cross bow across his chest and he’s holding onto it with his free hand as he shifts from foot to foot anxiously. Everybody else filters out, working on chores, splitting up into groups and none of them looking worried about being without a weapon. Leaving him fidgeting, chewing on his thumb and ducking his head when as the only one left, he gets all of Hershel’s attention.

“Something on your mind son?” The old farmer asks, and it always makes Daryl’s stomach feel like it’s squirming when he calls him that.

Still he clears his throat, lets his fingers tighten on the strap across his chest and knows that Hershel deserves to be treated with respect, so he makes sure to look up and meet his eyes when he talks. “You uh… you don’t want us to have guns ‘n’ stuff.” Daryl points out. “Does that mean you want to lock up my crossbow too Sir?” He asks, and he hates, hates, hates the worry in the pit of his stomach as he waits for an answer.

There is a pause, Hershel just looks at him and he knows it is rude to fidget and mumble, but he’s not very good at this sort of thing. Hershel looks him over, it makes Daryl feels small but he refuses to be rude, Merle had tried to teach him to stare people down to get his own way, but it had never worked. Not that he wanted to get his own way, this was Hershel’s farm after all, he had to respect his rules. But he also doesn’t want to lose his crossbow. A part of him thinks maybe it’s stupid to be so attached to it, but it’s been a lifeline for him for so long, he can’t think about being without it.

“No.” Hershel replies.

The swirling feeling in his tummy is still there, but it doesn’t feel as bad as earlier. His chest doesn’t feel so squished and he doesn’t have to hold on quite so tightly to the strap. And when Hershel speaks to him he doesn’t feel so small, so nervous about being around him as much as before.

Hershel smiles to him, tilts his head a little to meet his eyes properly as he continues. “Your bow is more difficult to accidentally fire. You’ve shown yourself to be more than capable of handling it correctly, you know where it is at all times, and I’ve never seen you use it unless you have to.” Hershel points out, and Daryl doesn’t understand why he feels so hot when the other man smiles to him. “Do you intend to shoot it inside the house? Or use it carelessly?”

Of course he shakes his head to that, remembering the first lesson Merle had ever taught him when it came to the bow. The second it had hit Daryl’s palm and he’d felt it’s weight, Merle was yanking on his hair and told him to listen up good. Because it weren’t a toy, and that meant it weren’t for playing with. Besides, Merle had always said if Daryl ever dicked about with it he’d know and take it back. Even when Merle had been away he’d been worried he’d find out, so playing with his crossbow had never been an option. “No Sir.” He tells him, more than certain of that fact if nothing else.

“Then you may keep it.” Hershel nods. “And you don’t have to keep calling me Sir.”

“Yes Sir.”

Hershel laughs, reaches out to clap a hand to Daryl’s shoulder and he can’t help the flinch. It didn’t hurt, he doesn’t think it was meant to, maybe it was meant to be funny or something, Hershel had laughed after all. He didn’t always get jokes.

He was glad he got to keep his bow. Daryl’s pretty sure if it had been taken away he would have felt wrong, naked without it. Even if he doesn’t have to use it all the time, there is a security that comes with having the weight of it on his back, and having the strap to fidget with when he couldn’t suck on his thumb. It helped in whatever small, stupid way it was and with the world how it is nowadays, he’s just happy to have something to help.

The nights were sometimes the worst part of it all. During the day you could see everything that was out there, walkers were easy to see and take out, and they could see the entire farm if they got high enough on the RV or the roof of the farmhouse. It was easy to keep calm when you knew what was out there, but at night, in the dark, he wasn’t so sure. It’s not that he’s scared of the dark, not anymore anyway, but when it was dark you couldn’t see what was coming. It helps to have someone on watch at all times, just as a back up to keep an eye on any problems, but there was always the question of, what was out there?

Daryl knows he’s always been a restless sleeper. Merle had always had the talent of being able to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere so long as he could close his eyes. He’s never been like that; he’s always found it difficult to fall asleep unless he was comfortable, safe and secure. It had been hard when he was smaller and the nights had been dark and full of shouting and the question of if the punches were coming for him. Nowadays, it was just a whole lot of worry that seemed to live in his stomach during the day and roll around when he was trying to sleep at night.

It’s difficult with Carl there. Not that he wasn’t used to sharing a room. Growing up poor meant he and Merle had always shared a room, and then when on the road they’d shared the truck, or a couch, or whatever flat surface they’d been using as a bed that night. So the problem isn’t the fact that he’s sharing a room, it’s who he’s sharing a room with.

Carl is a pretty cool kid. He’s smart, he’s funny, he for some reason thinks that Daryl is cool, and they get along great. It’s kind of what Daryl thinks it must be like to have a younger brother, and he hopes he’d been as great for Merle as Carl is to him. He likes hanging out with the kid, it’s fun when they talk late into the night, but after that, when Lori has peeked into their room and told them to get some sleep, that’s when he can’t relax. Because he knows Carl looks up to him for whatever reason, the kid thinks he’s cool and Daryl doesn’t want to lose the closest thing he’s ever had to a friend besides his own brother.

So when they’re lying in their beds on the floor, with the sticky Georgia heat cooling into night, Daryl doesn’t want Carl to think any less of him. Merle’s shirt lies tucked beneath his pillow, hidden from Carl’s view and away from his fidgeting fingers. He’s only ever shared a room, and all these secret little habits, with Merle before, and even if Merle sneered and called him a pussy sometimes, his brother still loved him despite them. But here, with his new family, in this strange house that was becoming a home, and sharing a room with Carl, he’s not so sure if those things are allowed any more. The shirt stays under his pillow and he lies on his back with his crossbow on his chest, curling his fingers around the strap and the shaft to keep them occupied and away from his mouth. He knows he cannot let Carl know that he sucks his thumb.

It had happened before. People just didn’t understand it. He’s always done it since he was little and it helped, he felt good, it felt nice and made things easier to cope with. He likes sucking his thumb and sometimes people just didn’t get it. They thought it was just a habit, not something he chooses to do because it helps when people get too much for him to handle. People laughed, called him names and he’d learnt not to do it around them. Even Merle used to bark at him for it.

But there had been times that Merle had understood, like when the walkers were new and scary, or when mom had died, or that one time Merle had been in hospital after overdosing and his big brother had let him sleep on the hospital bed with him and let him suck his thumb because it helped. Merle had told him it was only for real bad times, or for sleeping, because otherwise people were going to talk and they didn’t need nobody talking shit behind their backs.

Daryl knows the rules say he’s allowed to suck his thumb at bedtime, but that was only ever on his own or with Merle, and he really doesn’t want Carl laughing at him or calling him names. So he holds the crossbow tighter, until the sharp edges are digging into his fingers and hurting a little. It’s strange enough sleeping in a strange house, with new people, but not having the comfort of Merle’s shirt, or the security of his thumb, it means he does not sleep well. In fact it’s getting harder and harder to sleep at all. It’s only when he’s completely exhausted, usually chewing on his lip to give his mouth something to do instead of being around his thumb, that he manages to get a few hours of sleep. Thing is, they’re not very restful ones.

Nightmares plague him, sometimes it’s enough to wake him up and leave him clutching his crossbow to his chest as he lies awake for the rest of the night, listening to Carl breathe and making sure he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary outside.

It’s about a week after they move inside of the farmhouse that things get to be too much. He’s been okay after the whole barn thing, and even with Rick telling everybody about him, he thinks he’s been doing pretty well. Daryl helps out around the farm, he hunts for food and pulls his weight and nobody has said nothing to him or treated him any different. Everything is working out kind of alright. Until the lack of restful sleep catches up with him.

Middle of the night, early hours, and the nightmares make him wake up with a gasp. Daryl scrabbles for a while, clutching at his crossbow, curling around it briefly as he tries to breathe and remember that it’s not real. Well the walkers were real, but they were outside and not in here, and Merle isn’t a walker and he’s just away for a little while and he’s going to come back and find him.  Automatically Daryl finds his hand rising to his mouth, but he catches himself, stops and grabs back onto the crossbow’s strap to keep himself from being a baby. Carl is still asleep in the bed next to him, so he’s careful when he gets up, making sure to tread quietly as he sneaks out to the hall and down stairs.

He knows he’s never going to be able to sleep. Not anymore. The pictures of his undead brother keep replaying in his head and he has to wipe away the stray tears that try to escape down his cheeks. Keeping the crossbow close to his chest, he slips on his boots and creeps past where Shane is asleep on the couch, outside onto the porch besides where the RV is parked.

Daryl’s never needed a watch to be able to tell the time, it’s something he’s just learned how to do by necessity over the years. So he knows it’s about time for them to change shifts for the night watch, Dale was probably about to come find someone anyway, and if he’s not going to sleep then he might as well do something useful. The raised porch means he doesn’t need to climb the RV to be able to have a conversation with the older man on top of the roof. Dale’s already heard the door close behind him and he’s looking at Daryl with a weird look on his face, one that Daryl isn’t sure the meaning of when he leans on the porch railing to speak to him.

“Everythin’ been quiet?”

“Yeah, quiet as a mouse.” Dale replies, but he’s still got that look on his face that Daryl can’t read as he rubs over his bearded chin. The older man shuffles in his spot, shifting the rifle against his shoulder and Daryl frowns when Dale makes no move to get down and switch shifts. Usually people were eager to get to go to bed by this time. “Why don’t you go and wake Glenn for me? He’s next up.”

Shaking his head, Daryl holds his crossbow tighter, that feeling of not understanding creeping up in his belly again. “I can do it. Ain’t like I’m gonna be sleepin’ no more.” He explains, shivering as that rotting image of Merle stumbling towards him flares up behind his closed eyelids.

Dale sighs deeply before replying. “No, no Daryl. I think we should get Glenn, it is his turn anyway.”

That makes him frown a little, cocking his head to the side. He knows they take turns, but if he’s awake right now and willing to stay on watch, surely he should do it? Glenn could just take his next turn. So he gives a shrug, trying to make sure Dale knows that it’s not a big deal, “I got it.” He tells him, but that look on Dale’s face doesn’t go away.

“Daryl, I don’t think you should.”

“What?” Dale’s face is confusing him, and now his words are confusing him too. It makes him feel on edge and he knows his voice is a little rougher than usual as he asks. “Why?”

There is another sigh, and this time he can see Dale rub at his eyes as if they are hurting or something. He’s seen people do that when they’re tired, so maybe that was it. But if so then why wasn’t he excited to go to bed? Dale sure does sound tired when he talks to him. “Calm down now, I just don’t think you should be on watch by yourself that’s all. It’s an important job Daryl and we need someone-“

“You don’t think I can do it?” It all falls into place for him and he’s cutting Dale off. He thought everything was okay, Carol had said everything was okay with everybody and he’d believed her because it had felt okay. It felt like everyone was fine with him being the way he is, everyone had been normal, but now…

“I didn’t say that now Daryl, I just think it’s a lot of responsibility to put on your shoulders and you shouldn’t be subjected to that sort of pressure.” Dale continues, moving down from the top of the RV to move to the porch with him, keeping his voice down so not to disturb the quiet of the night. “We need to make sure we have the group’s safety as our top priority and I just think that you already do so much for us during the day, maybe you should take a break and have the night off.” His voice is doing that thing he doesn’t like. When people spoke to him different, like he’s an idiot, like he didn’t understand, like he was a retard. “It’s a tough job Daryl, there’s not much light out here and you could make a mistake-“

“Like Andrea did when she shot at me?” He snarls, because now he’s pissed. That ‘r’ word made him pissed, made him upset and even if he hadn’t said it, Dale was acting like that’s what he is. “That was at daytime, so why’s she still allowed to go on watch and I ain’t? Huh?” Daryl knows his voice is rising, he knows he’s being louder than he should at night but his chest feels tight and his eyes are burning and his crossbow is cutting into his palms where he’s holding it so tight.

But Dale doesn’t stop.

“Daryl, you don’t have to do this. We understand son. You don’t have to push yourself, you don’t have to force yourself and try so hard. We understand that things are difficult for you and you have to know that there are something’s you can’t do.” Dale pauses, stepping closer, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder and he’s flinching back, stepping backwards, shaking his head as the older man continues. “We don’t blame you for it Daryl, but there are some things I don’t feel comfortable-“

“That’s not fair! I can do it! You don’t get to choose what I can and can’t do!” He snaps, voice stark and bold in the cold night hours. Daryl knows he’s not reacting like other people would, he knows other men his age wouldn’t be choking on tears, they wouldn’t have their chest feeling tight and vision blurry, nor would they be clinging onto a crossbow and wishing it was their brother’s shirt instead. “So what if I ain’t that smart, or, or if I don’t understand some stuff, it don’t matter now! I’m still alive the same as everybody else is!”

“Now calm down Daryl it’s okay-“

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Daryl doesn’t care what Dale has to say, he’s heard enough. The old man didn’t think he was capable, didn’t think he would be able to keep them all safe when that’s what he’s been trying to do this whole time. “It’s not okay! It ain’t fair for you to say that shit to me!”

“Daryl please, we’re trying our best to help you here.” Dale is all raised hands, palms out, trying to be gentle but his words are hurting. They make a sob catch in his chest and Daryl is so angry at himself for being like this. “It’s okay to struggle with some things, I’m sure if we’d have known how much you needed your brother he never would have been left behind-“

The mention of Merle is what does it. He can’t get the image of his brother being dead out of his head, it haunts him every second of every day and now Dale was talking about Merle as if he knew him. “Shut up!” He yells, and now he knows he’s being too loud, but he doesn’t care because he needs to get this out somehow. Get rid of this thing caught in his chest. “Shut up! I ain’t like that! I ain’t! You ain’t bein’ fair!”

It hurts to breathe, Dale is trying to creep closer to him with his hands ready to be put on his shoulders and Daryl doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t want Dale to touch him. Doesn’t want this man that has said such things to be near him. Clutching at his crossbow it feels like a barrier, like a way out of this as he tries to back up and get out of the way. He’s breathing fast, his vision is blurry and he doesn’t know how to fix this.

“There’s no need to get upset-“

The door of the farmhouse banging open cuts Dale off from his attempt at soothing him and Daryl is grateful for the interruption, but not necessarily the addition of new people to the situation. “Hey what the hell is goin’ on out here?” Rick is there, hissing between his teeth in a hushed yell, probably trying to keep his voice down yet keep some authority. Thing is, he’s not alone. Lori is there, wrapped in a blanket with her arms around Carl’s shoulders, keeping her son close and safe from the incident. Shane is over her shoulder, still looking half asleep and rubbing over his head as he watches them both.

“Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all. Daryl doesn’t understand-“

“I understand just fine!” He snaps back at Dale, so fucking angry that he’s broken down again, tears in his eyes and his shoulders tense. And Carl is watching him, the only person that might not have cared about his differences seeing him break down. “You’re bein’ an asshole an’ not lettin’ me stay on watch, and it ain’t fair!” He yells, he hates that he’s yelling but it feels like he can’t stop it because whatever is in his chest wants to get out and it hurts.

Rick is stepping closer, stepping between them like he’s afraid there is going to be a fight and he’s going to have to break it up. Afraid that Daryl can’t control himself like normal people. “Alright, alright. Just calm it down.” Rick doesn’t shout, Rick doesn’t have to shout because he sounds calm and confident and Daryl wishes sometimes that he could do that but he can’t. “We don’t need any walkers hearing us right now.”

No of course they don’t because the whole point of someone being on watch was to look out for walkers and here he was yelling and being loud and probably drawing in walkers to the farm. He is stupid. He is dangerous. Dale is right but he’s been trying so hard to be useful and prove that he can stay with the group. It’s too much. He feels like everything is breaking around him and it’s all his fault.

Daryl moves, heads off the porch and away from the farmhouse. He doesn’t want to be here anymore if he’s not wanted. If he’s not good enough. It hurts, his chest feels tight, the tears are finally falling down his cheeks and Daryl’s not sure if he’s ever felt more pathetic in his life. He can hear Carl calling for him but he ignores it, because why in the hell would the kid ever need him? Behind him the sounds of a hushed argument begin to fade as he walks further away from them all, well aware that he just doesn’t fit. Merle had always said it like it was a good thing, Dixons were different, but sometimes it felt like Daryl would give anything just to fit in with everybody else.

When he gets around the side of the house, he can hear someone following him, their footsteps muffled by the grass but he can feel that they’re jogging towards him, probably trying to catch up to him. A part of him figures he might as well get it over with, so he stops, wraps his arms around his bow and clutches it a little tighter to his chest. His father had always yelled at him to ‘take it like a man’ so he figured it was better late than never. Might as well deal with the consequences of him being an idiot and being so loud at this time of night.

“’m sorry.” He’s ready with the apologies as soon as Rick stops next to him. Daryl knows his place, he’s been on this end of the argument before and sometimes it’s better not to fight back, to just roll over and take it because it was easier and what they wanted. Sniffing back the stupid lump in his throat he reaches up to rub at his eyes, trying to get the stupid tears to stop falling. “’m sorry I’m so loud, ‘n ‘m sorry I’m stupid, ‘m sorry I can’t do anythin’ right.” He hiccups, hating that this has happened.

A part of him knows that this never ever would have happened if Merle was here. His brother knew how to help him hide it all. Hs whole life Merle had been there to help him, to teach him what to say and how to act and people sometimes had an idea about it but no one never said anything because Merle was there with him. Now he was alone and it had only taken a few weeks and he was fucking it all up, screwing himself over because he was too fucking stupid to do as Merle taught him and keep it a secret.

The anger swells inside of him, bubbling up until he’s letting his crossbow hang from its strap over his chest, reaching his hands up to grab at his hair, yanking at it hard. “’m tryin’!” He chokes, finding it all stuck in his throat and chest, his head aching but the sharp pain of tugging on his hair helps, it grounds him. Looking up to Rick his vision is all blurry, tears shed and unshed, probably looking pathetic to the other man. “I’m tryin’ Rick I am I swear. But it’s so hard, an’ sometimes I forget, an’ I know I ain’t smart or nothin’ but I can do it I swear.”

Rick is there, hands on his shoulders and this time he doesn’t flinch. Because there is some part of him that knows Rick is not going to hurt him. He’s broken down on him before, after Sophia and Rick had still let him stay around even if he was stupid. But now he was being loud, putting the group at risk during the night and he didn’t know if Rick was going to be able to forgive him for that. It makes him yank on his hair harder, the terror of being cast out, of being on his own takes over him. He can’t be alone, he doesn’t do well on his own.

The hands on his shoulders hold him steady, Rick is there, he’s hushing him, calling for him to calm down but he doesn’t feel like he can. “’m tryin’ real hard but sometimes I can’t… sometimes… it’s too hard Rick an’ I dunno how to be like you. I dunno how to be normal when Merle ain’t here to help me.” He hiccups, letting go of his hair with one hand to cuff at his nose, trying to sniff back everything that hurts. “’m tryin’, really I am. Please don’t make me go ‘way Rick. ‘m sorry I can’t fix it, ‘m sorry I don’t know how.”

It hurts so bad. He knows his faults, he knows he is different, he knows that he is broken but every single day he’s forgetting how to pretend more and more because he doesn’t have Merle reminding him. Rick is here now though, moving his hands from his shoulders down to the back of his neck. It’s steadying, Rick tugs him to stand properly and let go of his hair, hushing him all the while and makes the same soothing noises he’d made in the woods after Sophia. He can’t stop crying, the exhaustion of so little restful sleep washing over him, mixing with his stress and confusion until he’s burying his face in Rick’s shoulder and clinging onto his shirt.

“It’s okay Daryl.” Rick hushes him, one hand stroking through Daryl’s hair as the other cups at the back of his neck. “It’s okay, you’re not broken. You’re not broken at all I swear.” Daryl isn’t sure why it helps so much to be held by someone. Usually the only person he ever had was Merle, and Merle only did ‘pussy hugs and shit’ very rarely. But Rick was here, Rick wasn’t calling him pathetic or weak for clinging to him, for needing him right now. So he buries closer, lets himself cry into the other man’s shoulder for a while. “Dale is just… he’s wrong alright? He doesn’t understand you that’s all. He’s from a different generation, they had a different way of thinking back then.” Rick sighs into his ear.

Daryl doesn’t care why Dale had said it, the fact was he believed what he said and that hurt. It wasn’t his fault, he tried so hard to be good, to hide it all away from everybody else. This whole thing was just proof that he was broken, that he was weak and unable to look after the group, and now even Carl had seen him like this. That hurts. He doesn’t want Carl to think any less of him, but he knows he must now.

He remembers being Carl’s age and being taught how to ‘be a man’. No crying, Dixons didn’t cry. Daryl remembers his dad hitting him for crying, yelling at him for being stupid and for acting like a pussy. It wasn’t that he thought Carl was gonna hit him, but he didn’t want to lose whatever standing he had in the kid’s mind. Maybe it’s pathetic, but he wants Carl to stay his friend since he’s never really had one before.

“I’m tryin’ Rick I swear.” He mumbles, letting go of his shirt to reach up and wipe at his eyes. Rick still holds him, keeps him steady and helps him breathe through it.

The other man keeps his voice low, and it’s calming, soothing almost, helping Daryl breathe easier and his head not feel so full of questions and upset. Rick’s voice has a strength to it that he likes, there is something about the man that just makes him feel like he could never be wrong. “I know you are, but you don’t have to try Daryl. We’ll have you just how you are okay? No one is going to kick you out. No one is going anywhere. We’re a family right? A team.” Rick tells him, and Daryl nods in reply because that’s what he wants to be, he wants them to be a family and he wants to have somewhere he fits. “You do not have to worry about anybody going anywhere. We’re in this together, and that includes you Daryl.”

It helps. So he nods in reply, wiping at his face and sniffing back any more tears. Rick wouldn’t lie to him, Rick is an honest guy, probably the most honest guy he’s ever met. “I just wanted to help.” He mumbles.

“You do help Daryl, you help a lot.” Rick continues, his thumb rubbing lightly up and down the back of Daryl’s neck to comfort him. “You hunt for us, you set up snares, you check the perimeter, and I know Carl feels safer sharing a room with you.”

That makes him blush a little, thoughts catching in his head as he tries to explain it all to Rick. “Andrea wanted me to teach her how to hunt. An’ Carl… he saw me Rick.” It’s hard to explain the way it works in his head, he’s never had this before and he was never so good with new things. People wanted to learn what he knew, was it because he wasn’t good enough for them? Maybe they thought they could do it better. As for Carl, he didn’t want to lose the kid’s respect because he saw him crying like a baby. “Don’t want him to hate me.”

“Carl is never going to hate you.” Rick tells him, still keeping his hands on Daryl’s shoulders, giving them that physical connection that somehow makes it easier for him. “He’s always talking about you, always asking to hang out with you. I don’t think there is anything you could do to get him to hate you.” He tells him, and Daryl ducks his head at that, a little flustered by that comment. “As for Andrea wanting to learn? We all want to learn how to survive. It’s like Hershel teaching us how to farm, it’s not that we don’t trust him to do a good job, but we want to learn too so we can help.” Rick sounds different now, like there is a smile in his voice as well as on his face. Daryl prefers that voice a lot more to the aggressive tones his father and Merle used to use with him.

Nodding in understanding, Daryl lets himself step back from Rick’s embrace, wiping over his face once more and feeling a lot more stable. His head wasn’t hurting so much, there weren’t so many worries running around it and making him want to scream. “Thank you Rick.” He offers his thanks, fully aware that it certainly wasn’t Rick’s job to look after him and fix him when he’s like this. “’m sorry for causing a fuss.”

“It’s not a problem Daryl.” Rick is still smiling, gesturing for Daryl to follow him back to the house, back to their family. “You said you were trying, well we’re all trying too. We’ll learn how to survive together, as a team, as a family.” Daryl thinks that sounds like a good plan for the future, and it’s one he wants to follow.

When they reach the front porch Shane is the only one there, everyone else has returned indoors leaving the other man to watch them approach with a nod and a smile. Daryl doesn’t mind Shane knowing he’s been upset, he’d seen him before after nightmares, but he is grateful that there is no one else here to see his tearstained face. “Everythin’ alright?” Shane asks them as they climb the steps, and Daryl lets Rick answer for him with a nod. “Good. I got everyone else to go back to bed. Don’t think any walkers were drawn in, place is still clear.” He tells them and Daryl feels relieved that he hasn’t given them any trouble with his excessive noise.

“You talk to Dale?” Rick asks.

Shane gives a small smile, and there is a moment shared between the other man and Rick that Daryl knows he could never understand. It makes him glad that Rick and Shane still have their best friend after everything that’s happened. “I let him know the lay of the land. We ain’t got time for his old fashioned nonsense anymore, world has changed and Dale needs to keep up.” Shane tells them with a nod and a grin, reaching up his arms to stretch before letting out a yawn. “Crazy old man is stuck in his ways.”

Rick claps a hand to Shane’s shoulder with a small laugh and the two of them smile to him briefly before they start to head inside. “Glenn can go on watch after you Daryl, see you in the morning.” There is no question of his abilities, no moment of them being unsure that he can do this important job. They just nod, bid him a good night and then the door is closing behind them as they leave him to it. It makes him smile, lets him know that Rick and Shane have got his back and as he climbs to the roof of the RV he feels like he really might be able to do the whole family thing. Maybe it’ll take time, maybe it’ll be difficult, but he’s not the only one walking this road ahead.

It’s nice to know that they’ll all be trying together.


	14. No more kid's stuff

It’s a little thing, but he takes care of Merle’s bike.

Sometimes it feels like Merle is just away for a few days, and he’ll be back soon enough and yelling at Daryl for not keeping his bike in the best condition. So he uses his rag to keep it clean, he makes sure to take all the valves off and clean them, gets rid of every itty-bitty bit of dirt that could clog up a gear or make it difficult to run smoothly. Now the world doesn’t work anymore he knows they’re on their own, and if he wants the bike to run then he has to deal with the responsibility of it all. For the time being it’s his bike, so he has to be the one to make sure it’s working.

Everything else on the farm can be difficult and confusing, but this is something he knows. It’s a small thing for him, but tending to Merle’s bike is his responsibility and his alone. So he likes spending an hour or so going through things, making sure it’s all running smoothly and not going be a dangerous thing to drive. They couldn’t afford to have it break if he didn’t tend to it; it was good for going on runs quicker than using the horses and it had better manoeuvrability than the cars. The bike was a major part of them being able to make things work, and it’s his job to ensure it’s there to be used.

It doesn’t hurt that he likes riding it around the farm.

It’s his reward after cleaning it. Technically he’s just running it through, making sure it’s working and not making any noises he knew were a problem, but it’s also something he enjoys doing. Riding the bike was something he could do with his eyes closed if he wanted, because he’s been riding since he was fourteen. Merle had taught him, on a lazy Sunday when he’d been sitting on the old porch and watching his brother show off his latest toy. It wasn’t the same bike now, but it still made him think of the way Merle had let him sit on it and taught him how to ride with his hands over the top of his own and a smile on his face. Merle had taught him well, and he can remember them laughing when he’d managed to drive five feet by himself without any of Merle’s help.

Now he rides because it’s nice. When he was on the bike, everything else just went away. He didn’t have any worries, there were no walkers, no confused thoughts, all he had to do was ride. It helps on the tough days when they all have to work harder to get by, he can just lean back, and let the wind blow his slowly growing hair from his face as he drives around the farm. Usually he sticks to just going a few times around the perimeter, checking out for walkers, but mainly just enjoying the ride. He never goes too fast, not when the ground was more uneven than the roads and he didn’t want to risk hitting a rabbit hole and causing some real damage to the bike or himself.

It’s a small break away from reality when he’s riding. There are no walkers, no problems, no one else aside from him. So when he’s the only one, it means he’s not different, he can’t be weak, can’t be stupid, can’t be a problem because it’s just him and he loves it. Everything is easy when he’s out on the bike by himself, no worries, no one else, it’s just so easy when it’s just him, the bike and the wind in his face. There are no problems in the world when he’s feeling like this. It’s just calm and all of his differences just don’t matter.

It helps with the tiredness too. It’s been a few weeks or so since they moved in, and his problems when sleeping haven’t gotten much better. The nightmares still plague him almost every single night, a few times he’d woken up in tears and sometimes he accidentally woke up Carl too. He hated it. No one else was having nightmares and wandering around the house in the early hours of the morning. It was only him acting like a baby and ruining the few hours of sleep he does manage to get. Every night it’s the same, he heads to bed and ends up lying on his back, crossbow to his chest and trying to relax without his usual coping mechanisms. Hershel had said he can read some of the veterinary books in their office cum bedroom, so sometimes he spends the hours with a flashlight on, flicking through pages, enjoying learning about animals and the different ways Hershel knew how to help them. Sometimes it helps him get tired, and a few times he’s fallen asleep with the book in his arms.

But it always ends up the same way. With him waking up scared, sometimes with tears on his cheeks and a sob in his throat, other times it’s just a bad feeling in his gut and he doesn’t even want to go back to sleep. Usually he heads into the hallway so he doesn’t disturb Carl, book in one hand, bow in the other and he tries to concentrate on the words and pictures of animals before him instead of the want to suck on his thumb to make himself feel better. Merle had always said he needed to grow out of it; maybe he finally had to really try and do it?

He doesn’t think he’s letting it show. He still works hard all day, helping out with the fences, going hunting and keeping the farm safe in-between hanging out with Carl and learning how to be a part of a real family. But he’s tired to the bone, his muscles ache from not resting, sometimes his eyes feel gritty and his head feels fuzzy, but he’s determined not to disappoint anybody. So he does his chores, he makes sure to keep his pathetic inability to sleep to himself and he thinks it’s working out okay with nobody else knowing.

It’s one of those days where he’s working on the bike, just spending the time between chores cleaning over it and getting rid of any dirt or grime that’s gotten caught up on it. Easy, methodical work like this, he kind of enjoys it because there is no pressure. If he doesn’t clean it properly the rest of the group aren’t going to starve, if he misses a speck nobody is going to die, so he can just take his time and do a good job because he wants to, and he likes that. In the shade of the house he takes his time, mentally naming each part of the bike and its workings that he’s cleaning and liking that he knows them all.

Around him is the sound of his new family, gentle chatter in the air, a few laughs over shared memories and even if he’s not involved in the conversation, it’s not awkward for him to be around it. Daryl doesn’t feel left out, he just feels comfortable and happy that they can be safe and smiling in this new world. There is the sound of thudding footsteps coming from inside the house, the creak of the door being shoved open and Daryl is smirking to himself, not even looking up from his work because he knows exactly what’s coming.

“Finished my chores Daryl!” Comes the cry from Carl, the boy still very much a kid even if he protests otherwise. Lori and Carol are on the porch, going through laundry and folding it all into different piles for all of them as they chat, both smiling with tiny laughs as Carl bounces on the spot, leaning over the rail to talk to him. “Can we go now?”

It makes him smile. Carl actually likes spending time with him, the kid eager to hurry and finish his duties for the day to get to be with him. It’s been kind of nice to have that, and over the past few weeks he and Carl have been hanging out more and more, the pair of them enjoying each other’s company easily. Giving a roll of his shoulders Daryl shrugs, making sure to nod his head in Lori’s direction first. “You asked your momma?” He asks, only able to smirk when Carl gives a dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes.

“Mom, can I go for a ride around the farm with Daryl?” The kid dutifully asks, voice bored of having to ask every single day, but Daryl knows how important it is to ask for permission and let people know where they’re going. He watches as Lori pauses in folding laundry to raise her eyebrows at her son, cocking her head as if waiting for something and Daryl has to hide his smirk when Carl hurriedly continues. “Please?”

Lori smiles and continues with the laundry, Daryl finds it odd how even after all the shit that’s gone down, she still reminds her son about manners and being polite. He doesn’t remember his mom too well, but he’s fairly certain manners never matter in the Dixon house. “Has Daryl finished his chores?” Lori asks, glancing his way for an answer.

“Yes Ma’am.” He ducks his head in a nod, and heck even if he’d never been brought up to be polite, he knows not to be rude too. Especially not when Lori’s word was law when it came to her son.

She smiles, sharing a look with Carol before nodding to them both. “Alright, you remember the rules though. Not too fast, no wheelies, and don’t leave the farm biker boys.” Lori tells them the same every single day, the rules concrete and only thinking of their safety, but he knows Carl hates it and thinks she’s putting a damper on their fun.

Daryl doesn’t mind. He likes rules. Rules made it easier to know what to do, and he can’t mess up quite so much if he knows what he can and can’t do. He’d hate to do anything that made Lori worry and put a stop to their fun. So he nods in reply, pocketing the rag he’d been using to clean the bike and checking the crossbow was strapped tightly across the back before climbing on. Carl jumps down the steps to join him, eagerly climbing into his usual seat on the back, arms automatically wrapping about Daryl’s waist when his legs can’t reach the floor any longer.

“And Daryl?” Carol calls to them, that playful smile on her face that Daryl never thought he’d see again after Sophia. The weeks since then have been difficult, and though he knows it will always hurt Carol like losing Merle always hurt him, he thinks maybe she’s getting a little better. “Remember if you’re doing crossbow training, fire away from the cows. We don’t want them almost becoming a shish kebab like last time.”

He can feel himself blush at that, the incident last week rearing up in his mind and making him feel a little flustered, even if he knew it was a joke. “That was one time!” He huffs, starting the bike up and revving it a little to chase away the embarrassment he recalls from it all. “And they shouldn’t have been so interested in what we were doin’ anyway.” He mumbles.

“We’ll be careful, promise.” Carl tells them cheerfully, giggling a little at the reminder of their accident the other week.

The women give them a wave, shooing them off and away so they can continue chatting. Honestly Daryl doesn’t understand it at all, he’s never really been one for talking, but he figures maybe it’s just one of those things that’s different about him. Huffing a little he makes sure to remind Carl to hold on tight to him and his hat before moving, feeling the kid’s fingers grasp onto the leather of his vest as they pull away from the farmhouse and begin their usual journey.

They’ve brought in the borders of the farm a little closer to the house, building new fences, reinforcing the barn and trying to keep things easier to defend. The house is already tight with all of them inside, but it’s easier to keep them all safe that way. Out the back they’d been making a vegetable patch, using Hershel’s knowledge and supplies to get them some crops growing and even if they were only little sprouts of green in the dirt at the moment, Daryl still felt a little proud of their tiny garden. With him hunting and bringing in the fresh meat, it meant they had the cows and chickens around for longer, long enough to get them reproducing and making their food supply even better. The farm was really becoming their home, everyone pitching in to do the work to get it stable and safe.

He enjoys riding around the borders of it, Carl waving to Glenn and T-Dog as they work on the fences, weaving around the legs of their new watchtower Shane had made on the pylon. They circle their home, round past the gated entrance, all the way past the stables and barn, up past the cattle in their field before pulling up in their usual practise spot. Holding the bike steady Daryl waits for Carl to get off before dismounting, turning the bike off and grabbing the crossbow for them to get started.

The tin cans and self made paper targets they’d made are already in place, on the top of fence posts, stuck to trees on the edge of the forest and ready for Carl to hit them. Now that his side has healed up fully and Carl’s wounds are better he’s been teaching him how to use the bow just like he’d promised. Carl seemed to have fun doing it and Daryl knows that the kid must be bored shitless on the farm when everybody else seemed too busy to want to play with him. Thing is everybody else is so busy making sure the farm is secure and the chores are done, that they didn’t seem to be able to make time for him, and Daryl can see how much it pisses Carl off sometimes. So he tries his best to cheer Carl up, and the crossbow training seems to work.

It’s a routine by now, Daryl loads the bow for Carl since he’s nowhere near strong enough to do it, and as always he repeats the rules of using it. Never aim it at another person, keep your fingers away from the mechanism when firing, don’t fight the recoil, and if you think something is broken or not working right, don’t fire, give it back to someone who knows what they’re doing. It’s the same set of rules Merle had instilled in his head when he’d first gotten it, giving him rules to follow as he’d taught him step by step how to use it safely. He likes remembering those times, Merle might not have been the nicest person, but when he was teaching him something new, Merle always had so much patience with him and his stupid questions.

He likes being able to be the same with Carl, and he knows the kid appreciates it. There are no dumb questions though, Carl is too smart for that, and instead the kid learns it all so easily, absorbing the new information eagerly and heeding all his warnings about it being a weapon and not a toy. The kid learns fast, he still has shooting lessons with his dad and Shane, and Daryl figures between them all they’re getting better at dealing with any threats that come their way.

Watching Carl lift the bow into position he stands behind him, ready to reach out and help if he needs to, and making sure to keep an eye on the kid’s technique. It’s getting pretty good by now, and in no time Carl is firing bolts at their targets, getting closer and closer to their hand drawn bullseyes and hitting the tin cans almost every time. They go through their usual routine, firing ten bolts before putting the safety on the bow and retrieving them back, resetting their self made range before heading back to try again.

They’re on their second round, Carl handing him the crossbow to reload when he speaks. “What do you think about Beth?” The kid asks, and Daryl doesn’t get why he’s got his head ducked, seemingly unable to look at him for some reason.

He shrugs, hooking his foot on the stirrup to reload it again. “I dunno.” Honestly he hadn’t really gotten to know her too much. She always seemed kind of unsure, even when learning how to shoot she would seem uneasy, lost with the new world they lived in. Daryl doesn’t dislike her or anything, he just doesn’t really know her as good as he knows other people. “She’s okay I guess.” He mumbles, handing the crossbow back to Carl before cocking his head to the side in question. “Why?”

Carl takes the bow quickly, turning to face their targets and bringing it up to take his aim, not looking at Daryl when he shrugs in answer. “Just wondering is all.” The next bolt is fired, taking out a tin can perfectly, piercing through it before falling to the ground. He takes the bow back to reload and is surprised when Carl asks him another question. “You think her and Jimmy are gonna stay together?”

That makes him frown, he reloads easily enough before taking a shot himself, hitting the centre of one of their targets before he lets the bow drop to his side. Running his fingers through his hair he gives another shrug, he’s never been so good at reading people, but it didn’t look to him like Beth and Jimmy weren’t happy together. “I dunno.” He grunts, wondering if maybe Carl knew something he didn’t. “They don’t look as close as Glenn and Maggie do, but I dunno if that’s ‘cause they’re younger or somethin’.” Maggie and Glenn were always together, kissing and even just sitting so close they were pressed up against each other. Jimmy and Beth were together a lot too, always talking and he knows the boy makes her smile, but it doesn’t feel the same as Maggie and Glenn’s relationship. Again he shrugs, reloading the bow and looking to Carl for some answers. “Why’re you thinkin’ about Beth when we’re shooting?”

The kid looks a little flustered, his cheeks are red and Carl snags the bow from his fingers a little faster, turning to aim and shoot again. “I dunno. Just been thinking about her I guess.” Carl tells him and Daryl feels a little lost.

More tin cans go down, their paper targets get multiple holes through them and Daryl retrieves the spent bolts, walking back up to Carl to find the kind chewing on his lower lip. He’s not so eager to grab the bow and shoot again, instead Carl is reaching up to fidget with the brim of his hat while looking up to him.

“Daryl? Do you think Beth is pretty?”

He’s not sure what to say. A part of him wants to carry on shooting, that was easier, that was something he was good at and he knew the way it worked. But Carl doesn’t look like he wants to focus on anything but what they’re talking about and he doesn’t want to disappoint Carl if he can help it. Hanging the bow by its strap across the handlebars of the bike, he reaches out to fidget with it a little, swiping his fingers over the familiar joints of the crossbow to give himself something easy to focus on. “I dunno.” He shrugs in answer.

Carl nods, scuffing his feet against the dried dirt beneath them and Daryl can see that there is still that red flush over his cheeks when he speaks. “I think she’s pretty.” The kid tells him and all Daryl can really do is nod in understanding. It seems to be the right thing to do, and Carl moves closer to him, hand swiping over the seat of the bike and picking at the loose threads there as he continues to talk, continuing a conversation that Daryl’s not sure he entirely understands. “You talked to her lately?”

Well he knows that answer. “I helped her with cleaning up after dinner yesterday.” He points out, remembering how he’d helped clean the dishes, following the girl’s instructions as to where they needed to go when being put away.

“Did she you know,” Carl fidgets, shrugs again and looks up to him, “say anything? About me?”

That confuses the hell out of him, and Daryl feels pretty lost when Carl asks him that. He and Beth hadn’t really spoken about anything in particular, just doing the dishes and her guiding him at where to put things when they were clean. At most he’d thanked her for helping to cook the dinner earlier, told her the food was good and all, but other than that, he really hadn’t had much to say to the girl. “Why would she say anything about you?” He asks, and Carl really is blushing now.

“I don’t know. Was just asking, you know. Just wanted to know if she’d said something about me.” Carl tells him, a small smile on his face as he begins to explain. “We kinda talked the other night after playing board games. Did you know she sings? I bet she’s really good. She was too shy to sing for me, but she used to sing at church and in choir at her school so she must have been pretty good, right?” The kid is babbling, but he looks happy, looks excited, looks like talking about Beth is all he wants to do now instead of using the crossbow.

Daryl doesn’t mind. They use the bow almost every day now, and there is only so much he can teach the kid really. Besides, it’s nice to get to see Carl smile properly, and if talking about Beth makes him happy, then Daryl can do that. Nodding along he checks all his bolts are back in place, secure and safe since they’re not going to be shooting anymore. “Sure, if she sang in front of people she’s gotta be good.” He points out and Carl is grinning, nodding along in agreement with him.

“I bet she is, I bet she’s awesome.” Carl tells him.

Since their little training session is coming to an end, Daryl begins strapping the bow back into place on his bike, securing it easily so it can’t come lose or get broken at all. Carl is still with him, leaning on the bike and grinning to him as he works. Daryl’s not so good with reading people, but he knows when someone isn’t finished talking and Carl has that look on his face, one that makes him stand a wait for the kid to speak. He doesn’t mind being patient, waiting for Carl, because he knows sometimes when he got caught on speaking up the kid was always more than patient with him too. So he waits and when Carl leans in to him, face full of eagerness and curiosity, Daryl makes sure to pay attention.

“Daryl? How do you get a girl to like you?”

Oh. That question makes him falter. Immediately he can’t look at Carl, can’t meet his friend’s eyes, and his thumb is automatically coming up to his mouth so he can chew on his thumbnail. Scoffing a little he gives a shrug, trying to laugh it off, hoping Carl was just joking about or something. “Why’d you wanna know shit like that?” He huffs. Usually he tries not to swear around Carl, the kid’s parents made it clear they didn’t want their son using that kind of language, but right now it’s just the two of them so it doesn’t matter. Carl won’t tell on him.

The kid doesn’t look put off by his attitude, Carl even settles himself over the bike, folding his arms over the seat and leaning against it more, obscuring Daryl’s only means of escape. Carl looks interested in his answer though, curious, young and wanting to know more about it all. There is still the light blush on his cheeks, but it seems that now Carl has started this line of questioning, he doesn’t want to stop. “Because of Beth.” He tells him, and Daryl feels like an idiot for not understanding the reason for their conversation over Beth before. “I know she’s with Jimmy and stuff, but I just want to be her friend you know? I want her to like me because, I like her too.”

He nods, clearing his throat a little as he tries to take in the new information. “So you have a crush on Beth?” He ends up asking, just to be sure he and Carl are on the same page.

“Yeah.” The kid looks flustered, but determined, looking up to him so honestly as he carries on. “But you cannot tell anybody. It’s a secret alright? Nobody else knows, and nobody else needs to know. Besides she’s with Jimmy anyway.” Carl sounds a little disheartened by that fact, but when he speaks next he sounds nothing but deadly serious. “So you have to keep it a secret Daryl. Just between us right? Promise you won’t tell.”

Well he knows he can do that. He doesn’t want to betray Carl’s trust, and if the kid wants to share something so secret with him then he’s not going to be letting anybody else know about it. “Yeah, yeah I promise I won’t tell no one.” He agrees.

Carl is grinning now, bouncing a little on his toes and looking to him with curiosity mixed with excitement. “So? Come on, tell me how do you get a girl to like you?” The kid asks again, and suddenly Daryl feels very out of his depth.

“I uh…” He’s lost. Thumb pressed to his lips as he nibbles on the end of it, looking for some way to ease the uncomfortable feeling caught inside of him. Carl is looking at him so expectantly, and he hates to let him down, but the thing is this is not a topic he’s good at. Swallowing back the worry he shifts from foot to foot, already feeling completely lost and hating it. Why couldn’t Carl ask him about the bow some more? Or about hunting? “I don’t really know.” He ends up mumbling, hoping it’s enough.

Of course it’s not, and Carl is rolling his eyes, folding his arms and looking pretty annoyed at him. “Come on Daryl. My dad said no more kid’s stuff, I’ve been learning how to shoot and practising so I can take down walkers. I’m thirteen, I’m not a kid anymore. You can tell me about this sort of stuff, I know about sex and everything, I just don’t want to ask my mom and dad about this sort of thing, it would be too weird.” He points out, and Daryl knows that there is nothing Carl hates more than being treated like a kid. The thing is, he’s not refusing to answer because he thinks Carl is too young or anything, it’s for a completely different reason and he’s not sure exactly how to explain it to his friend.

“I know that.” He mutters around his thumb, teeth catching at the nail and tearing into it as he tries to find the words he needs to say. It’s not that he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything, it’s just that he knew people didn’t get him when it came to this topic. He wasn’t like most guys his age, and he didn’t want Carl thinking he was being mean and just withholding information from him. Tilting his head forwards means he can hide behind his hair, it means he doesn’t have to look at Carl directly as he tries to explain. “I’m just not so good with that sorta…stuff. I wanna help, I really do, but…” He gives a shrug, and lets his fingers of his free hand catch at the hem of his shirt, giving him something to fidget with when he felt like this. “I don’t really know nothin’ about that sort of thing.”

For a moment there is silence between them, Daryl trying to swallow down the horrible uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, and Carl looking a little confused. Thankfully the kid doesn’t look mad though, and Daryl hopes he knows that Daryl isn’t deliberately not telling him because he thought he couldn’t handle it. If he had the information to share then he would gladly tell Carl, but the thing is, it’s just not something he knows about. When he glances to his friend’s face, Carl doesn’t look angry, in fact he looks like he’s trying to piece something all together but there are pieces of the puzzle missing.

“But I thought you liked Carol?” Carl asks him, and immediately Daryl is shaking his head.

Why did people always think that? Why wasn’t he allowed to just be friends with a woman? Sure he hadn’t exactly known a lot in his lifetime, mostly it was just him and Merle, but sometimes there were girls around, the girlfriends of some of Merle’s friends or something. He got on with them just fine enough, but sometimes Merle friends would snap at him for talking to them, telling him to back off because they were spoken for. He never understood that. All he was doing was trying to be nice, hadn’t spoken to them any different than any guy he knew, but everyone always yelled at him for it anyway. It was those sorts of times that he knew staying silent was better.

“No.” Daryl tells Carl, hating that he has to explain himself when he wasn’t sure how. “I do like her, but not like that.” Because he did like Carol, she was kind and she tucked him into bed, and stroked his hair and kissed him on the head when he wasn’t feeling well. She explained things to him so he could understand, and when she was teasing with him it was fun, not mean. Huffing a little in annoyance at his lack of skill when it came to explaining, he tries to get Carl to understand. “She’s a nice lady, and she’s my friend, but I don’t like her in that way.” He hopes it’s enough, and looks to Carl hopefully for him to understand.

The kid does look a little puzzled, frowning for a second, picking at the loose threads on the bike’s seat before looking back to him. “Why not?”

Daryl falters on that. Because that’s the real question, and it’s one that even he doesn’t have an answer for. It makes him squirm where he stands, tangling his fingers in the hem of his shirt as he chews on his thumb, finding the dull pain of his teeth catching on his skin helping let out that unsure feeling inside of him. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel like that with Carol, or why he’s never ever felt like that to any other woman he’s known. Heck, he’s never felt that way about anybody before and he doesn’t think he ever will. It’s just never been something he’s liked the thought of before.

He can see that other people like it. Maggie and Glenn clearly liked being together, Beth and Jimmy too, and Rick and Lori were even going to have another baby. It seemed to work for other people, even Merle liked having a girl every so often, but he’d never wanted it for himself. The thought of being with someone feels like too much, too close, and he doesn’t think he could handle it. It would be awkward and horrible the whole time, and then he knew that relationships meant doing more intimate things together. That makes him shake his head, ignoring the horrible knot of fear in his belly as he just shrugs to Carl, focussing on answering him instead of thinking about stuff like that.

“I dunno. I’m not…I don’t…” He stutters, voice catching on the words as he tries to somehow explain himself. It’s not easy and he soon trails into silence, standing awkwardly with Carl by the bike, both of them lost at the conversation.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to hear the sound of a growling walker before. It’s a low noise, but loud enough that he should have heard it sooner. Annoyed at himself for getting so lost in his worry, he glares at the walker as it stumbles closer to them from the woodland surrounding the farm. There’s just one, and before long it’s caught on the fence they’d been shooting at, arms outstretched to try and reach them as it gargles on its own black blood. Daryl is grateful for the distraction, hand already slipping to the knife on his belt as he starts to walk over to deal with it.

“Wait!” Carl is calling to him, hurrying to his side and for some reason smiling, even though there’s a walker growling at them. Of course Daryl pauses, looks to Carl when the boy’s at his side and wonders why he looks so damned pleased at their situation. “Let me do it.”

Immediately he’s shaking his head. “Hell no.” He knows for certain that Carl should not be the one to take out the walker. Rick and Lori trusted him with their son enough to go around the farm and practice with the crossbow, but he knows for sure that he shouldn’t be letting the kid take down a walker. “‘S too dangerous.”

Carl is rolling his eyes, folding his arms and looking pretty damned pissed with him. “Are you kidding me? What’s the point in me practicing if I’m never gonna take out a walker?” The kid asks and Daryl snorts a little when he replies.

“That’s different. You don’t have to get close with the bow or a gun.” There was a decent distance between the threat and Carl, it made things easier. He’s been face to face with a walker, when he’d been injured on the creek bed and had to protect himself, he’d never want Carl to be in a situation like that.

“But I have to learn Daryl.” Carl snaps, and now the kid was looking pretty pissed with him, his voice clipped and full of frustration and he continues. “My dad said no more kid’s stuff. I’ve got to learn how to do it, I have to be able to look after myself. Dad said…” Carl licks over his lips, shuffles a little and Daryl can see there is some upset when he continues talking. “He said that he’s gonna die. Mom’s gonna die too, we keep losing people and I need to know how to look after myself if I end up on my own.”

It hurts to hear that Rick thinks all that bad stuff is going to happen. He had thought they were doing good here, but if Rick thinks he’s going to die then maybe it’s not good enough. Shaking his head he looks back over the farm behind them, the house standing strong with people milling about outside of it. His family all there, all safe right now. He doesn’t want anything to happen to any of them, and he’ll try his best to make sure they all stay safe here. Again he shakes his head when he turns back to Carl, reaching out a hand to place on his shoulder. “You ain’t gonna end up on your own. We’re making the farm safer, building fences and everything to keep them out-“

“But what if it doesn’t work Daryl?” Carl snaps, shoving off his touch, face pinched into the angriest scowl Daryl’s ever seen. “Look at Sophia, she was out there on her own and look what happened to her, you want that to happen to me too?”

It still hurts to think about Sophia. The grave is still out there, beneath the trees on the hill, a cross marking the place where they let her sleep forever. Daryl hates thinking about it all, hates remembering her coming out of that barn, so small and lost and dead. Hanging his head he tries not to remember so well, because he hates thinking about it, hates being reminded that he’d failed to find her and bring her home safe. He may not know a lot, but he knows he never, ever wants that to happen to Carl. Of course he doesn’t, it’s why he chews on his lip and shakes his head in answer.

His friend is there beside him, reaching out a hand to his own, curling his fingers about the handle of his knife and taking it from him. “Then you have to let me learn.” Carl tells him, and Daryl supposes maybe he’s right, after all Carl was a smart kid and he was just him.

The walker is caught on the fence, almost bent in two trying to reach them, prevented from coming any closer by the fence at it’s waist. Daryl supposes that makes it easier to deal with than most, but it’s still a walker, still got teeth and nails that could bite or scratch at Carl. It makes his stomach churn, and he can’t let Carl do it by himself. So he stays by his side, he and Carl walking over to the walker slowly, just staying out of it’s reach, watching as it swipes at the air before them. Daryl knows it’s something they have to do, Merle had told him so, but it doesn’t mean it gets any easier having to put down things that still looked like people.

Chewing on his lower lip he tries to swallow back the nerves and the worry that are plaguing him. Carl just looks determined, knife in his hand, ready to do what needs to be done. They’re both breathing a little heavier, Daryl with the worry and Carl with the excitement. The walker growls, snarls at them both and struggles to push itself closer to them. For a moment neither of them move, but then Carl stoops to grab a rock from the ground to toss at the walker. It hits it in the head, and the walker snaps its jaws open and closed, fingers ever reaching for them both.

He doesn’t feel good about it when Carl grabs another rock and throws it, and he feels even more uneasy when the kid laughs about it. It shouldn’t be funny. It shouldn’t be fun. Walkers were bad, he knew that, Merle had told him so, but that doesn’t mean he had fun taking them out. They still used to be people, now they were just sick, dead people that needed to be put to sleep. Carl shouldn’t be enjoying this. He wanted to learn sure that was fine, but this wasn’t learning, this was playing and Daryl was pretty sure Carl shouldn’t be doing that at all with a walker. It makes him feel awful, it makes all the restless nights of barely any sleep itch at him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He doesn’t want to be here, dealing with a walker and teaching Carl to take them down, he wants to be teaching him the crossbow and laughing about something silly. Instead here they were, him helping Carl grow up fast enough to survive.

Reaching out he grabs the knife back from Carl’s hand, ignoring the kid’s protest as he steps forward to plunge the blade into the walker’s head. The skull shatters on impact, caving in, making it easy to hit the brain and have the walker’s body slump on the fence, still as the dead. Shoving it off he leaves it on the floor, tossed outside of the fence to be dealt with later.

“Why’d you do that? I was gonna do it Daryl!” Carl is mad with him, stomping his foot as he follows Daryl back to the bike. At first Daryl doesn’t respond, because he’s not sure if he could say anything to not have Carl hate him. How was he supposed to explain that he didn’t want Carl to have to do something like that? That every time he had to take down a walker he was killing something that was a person once, someone that had just been unlucky and got bit. It’s not something he likes doing, and he didn’t want Carl to do it like that. Laughing, smiling, like it was just a game they were playing, because it wasn’t a game anymore.

Sitting on the bike he feels Carl climb on behind him, the kid’s arms slung about his waist harshly, grabbing at his vest angrily. Sighing a little he hangs his head, not sure how to explain it all to Carl when he was never so good with words. He feels tired. The weeks of too little sleep wash over him and in that moment he’s never felt more tired with the world. It wasn’t fair that they had to do this just to survive, and it wasn’t fair that Carl had to learn how to do such a thing at the age of thirteen.

Turning his head he speaks to the boy behind him, voice low and he thinks Carl must know he doesn’t feel good when he doesn’t start an argument with him. “Can you get your dad to teach you how to take down walkers instead?” He asks, and he can almost feel Carl’s confusion over it all. There is silence for a few moments between them, but when Carl nods he also tightens his grip around Daryl’s waist, hugging him from behind a little tighter than necessary as they begin the drive back to the house.

He parks the bike back in it’s usual spot beside the RV, next to the house and ready in case they need it for something. Carl is quiet as he dismounts still looking to him in worry, but Daryl doesn’t know how to explain himself. So he remains silent and begins to unstrap his bow from the back of the bike when he hears raised voices. It’s coming from the other side of the RV, and he knows Carl can hear it too when the kid looks to him for answers. Shaking his head he gives a shrug, edging closer to the source of the sound, the kid at his side as he realises who is arguing.

“Shane would you stop? I don’t need your help anymore!”

“For God’s sake Lori I was just offering that’s all. Stop reading so much into every little thing I try and do for you. I’m just trying to help.”

Glancing back to Carl he can see the kid shrug to him, clearly just as lost with the argument between his mother and Shane as Daryl was. He knew they’d had a thing before, a thing that he knows Carl didn’t need the know about, but he hadn’t thought they were still mad at each other. Shane had said he missed Lori, but he still got to see her everyday, surely that was enough?

“Yeah well it’s unwanted.” Lori snaps and Daryl can hear the frustration in her voice. “I’ve got plenty of other people here willing to help me instead of you.”

“Christ listen to yourself, here I am just trying to do a good thing, trying to help a pregnant lady with her chores and you go off thinking there’s more too it.” Shane pauses, letting out a breathless laugh, Daryl can hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot before he continues. “Sometimes I wish I had gone and left like I’d planned to before.”

“Well don’t let me stop you Shane, the door is right there. Take a car and run away if that’s what you think is best.” The short, sharp footfalls of Lori echo away from them, creaking up the porch steps and inside the house, followed by the sound of Shane sighing loudly from around the RV. It’s not long before the other man is walking away, probably going to let out his frustrations through manual labour.

Daryl doesn’t like when people fight. It reminds him too much of when he’d been smaller and afraid of what might happen afterwards. He knows things aren’t the same here, but he still worries. Chewing on his lower lip he turns to Carl, finding the kid looking just as upset as he feels. They’re both worried, and whatever awkwardness had been between them after the walker evaporates, leaving them both on edge over what they’d just overheard. He feels confused by it all, mind running over what Carl had told him when they’d first started hanging out.

“You said Shane would be happier once we moved into the house. Why would he want to leave?”


	15. Primum Tempus

Every night is the same. They eat as a family around their crowded tables, everyone at different heights depending on what they were sitting on, eating their rationed portions and sharing conversations. It’s a routine they’ve all gotten used to, gotten familiar with and if Daryl’s honest, he kind of enjoys it. It just lets them all feel closer, and he knows this is what a real family is supposed to be like. After everything is tidied up they stay inside the house for the evening, always with someone on watch as they go through their supplies, make lists of items they need and play board games to pass the time. He’s not so good at them, so usually he sticks to just watching, or being on Carl’s team so the kid does most of the actual gaming.

The nights are drawing in faster as winter creeps up on them, and since they had to be alert all the time, nobody really pushes for a late night anymore. Carl complains about it, griping to his mom and dad about not being allowed to stay up to the early hours with the adults, but when Daryl decides to head to bed at the same time, suddenly Carl’s not complaining. He doesn’t mind sharing with Carl, he really doesn’t, the kid is cool and they get on great. It’s just difficult for him when the only person he’s ever shared with before was Merle.

His brother gave him rules. Good rules. Easy rules to make thing simpler for him. Some of them he’s already broken, sometimes accidentally, sometimes because it felt better to break them. But nobody had yelled at him for it so far, Rick had even said they would have him however he came. So he supposes it’s okay for some things he does, but he’s still a little unsure over Carl and the sleeping situation. Sucking his thumb has always been something he likes, something that helps, something he finds soothing and calming when things are complicated or difficult for him to understand. It’s always been his way of making himself feel better, ever since he was little, honestly he can’t remember a time when he didn’t suck his thumb. He remembers his dad yelling at him for it, he thinks he can remember his mom calling it cute, and he definitely remembers Merle giving him rules about it. Not in front of anyone else. Only for when he’s really upset or going to bed.

Thing is, if he was allowed to do it when he went to bed, but he’s not allowed to do it in front of people, then what was he supposed to do? Some of the others already knew about it. Rick, Hershel and Shane definitely knew, Andrea has probably guessed by now, and he feels pretty certain that Carol knew even before he’d done it in front of her. So they knew and didn’t mind, but he remembers what Carl had told him earlier in the day when they’d been out practising with the bow. “No more kid’s stuff.” Sucking on his thumb was definitely kid’s stuff, and if Carl wanted to be more grown up, then he really wouldn’t want to be hanging out with an adult who still sucked on his thumb.

So he’s been trying real hard, been hiding Merle’s shirt under his pillow, and been holding onto the crossbow’s strap, or chewing on his lower lip to keep from giving in to the want to suck his thumb. He’s managed to hold out pretty long, a few weeks since they’ve come to live inside the house, but it’s wearing on him every night. He’s managed to only do it in secret, when Carl was busy with someone else and he managed to have a few moments to himself, or when he was grabbing a quick shower he could indulge without the worry of being caught. But sleeping without it has been hard, almost impossible and it’s wearing him down more and more each day.

Tonight is the worst it’s been though.

There is a lot on his mind as he lies there, flat on his back, watching the ceiling through the darkness, and listening to Carl’s gentle breathing beside him. The kid had fallen asleep easily enough, the two of them only talking for a little while, whatever annoyance Carl had held for him after the walker incident easily fading away. Carl seemed to be able to ignore his worries and get some rest, but Daryl finds himself caught on each and every one lodged in his mind. They pile on top of each other, layers of worry catching him when it’s quiet enough to dwell on them. When the worry begins he automatically wants his thumb, but it’s off limits right now, and somehow, even if he knows it shouldn’t, it makes it harder for him to cope with it all.

His and Carl’s conversation from earlier keeps cropping up in his head, about Beth, about crushes, about getting girls to like you and everything that can follow on from that. Daryl knows he’s not normal in that regard. He knows most men liked women, or men, or at least something. Not like him. There had never been a want for anything like that, no relationships, no touching, no need for anything in that vein. Not even from himself. It doesn’t normally bother him, heck there had never been enough people in his life to really think of him as weird, to really bring up the topic and question it. Only person that had been there was Merle.

Normally it doesn’t bother him, more often than not the topic doesn’t even cross his mind. But all he can think about is Carl asking him about it all, him trying to explain himself, and getting flustered over the topic. It’s not normally a big deal, but his head can’t seem to stop turning it over and over again, and all that does is bring up bad memories that he’d rather forget.

He knew he was weird, knew he was different, knew that other people didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want anything to do with sex or relationships. At first he’d been able to shrug it off, Merle giving him the excuse that he was waiting for a proper woman and not any of the skanks from their area. He’d not liked saying it, Daryl would have preferred just admitting he didn’t want anything to do with it all rather than blame the women they knew, but Merle had put a stop to that soon enough. So the excuse had stuck, sometimes Merle would throw in that his little brother was shy, didn’t have any game, or was waiting for Merle to show him how to pick up women. Excuse, after excuse, after excuse. It had worked when he was a teenager, he’d always been quiet anyhow, and the awkwardness of puberty really helped add to the idea of him being useless at it all.

But if it was one thing to not want a relationship with someone there all the time and knowing every single deep dark secret about him, it was another to not want any kind of intimacy at all. Merle liked having girlfriends for more than just conversation, and it wasn't like Daryl hadn't known what his brother enjoyed doing with them all when he'd been told to get lost for a few hours. He knew about sex. He' knew the differences between men and women and everything, but it had always seemed so...much. Even as a teenager he'd never really cared about girls, or guys for that matter. The thought of getting that close to somebody and doing those sorts of things with them had just made him feel uncomfortable. Why would anyone like having someone get that close to them? He liked hugs and stuff, but he knew people did far more than just hugging, and it all seemed very loud, very messy, and certainly not like a lot of fun. Of course when puberty hit he'd had no control of what his body did, but he'd not really encouraged it at all. He remembers Merle telling him to keep off his porn magazines and stuff, but honestly Daryl had never been interested in anything like that. 

When Merle had gone away for a while, everything had been fine. His dad really didn’t care about what Daryl did or didn’t do, so long as he was quiet when the game was on, and didn’t try asking him some of his dumbass questions, his father couldn’t give any less of a damn. Things had been fine and honestly, Daryl really hadn’t had a clue about sex, women or anything of that sort. There had been the basic sex education he’d gotten from school, but that seemed to be all about making babies, and honestly he’d never understood how something that seemed so complicated could possibly be enjoyable. Sex just wasn’t a part of his life and he’d been fine with it being that way.

Merle hadn’t been so fine with it.

His brother liked women. Daryl knew that. And he’s pretty sure that even if he didn’t have a clue about the details, Merle didn’t exactly mind guys either. Sure Merle used to tease him and pick at him for not caring about any of it all, but Merle was his big brother, that’s what big brothers were supposed to be like. He had gotten used to it, and thought that things would always be that way when it came to the topic of sex. He’d been twenty one when Merle had shown back up at home, a few weeks after his birthday, with a shit eating grin on his face and a girl Daryl had never seen before on his arm. He’d never really liked the women that came in and out of their lives. Merle’s girlfriends were always so loud, they smelled of strong perfume and always yelled at Merle about everything. Besides, they’d never stayed for long anyway, a few weeks at a time at most before Merle was yelling at them to leave him alone and saying that women were too needy. It had suited Daryl just fine. He’d never liked new people, and had been just fine with it being him, Merle, and their dad, with the occasional appearance of Uncle Jesse. It was plenty enough for him, and he’d never liked too many people around him anyway, it just made him feel awkward and uncomfortable a whole lot.

Of course he’d been excited that Merle was back, unable to stop smiling as he’d hugged him in greeting, not even upset by the fact that Merle had only half heartedly hugged back. Sometimes Merle got mad at him being clingy, so he’d always just taken what was allowed and tried not to complain too much about it. Besides, it was a good day if Merle was home, even if he’d bought a girl back with him. Daryl knew how it went, Merle would bring home some girl, and would tell Daryl to get lost for a few hours while they had some fun together. It was frustrating, especially since they shared a room, but afterwards Merle would still be around for a while, and Daryl always preferred it when Merle was around. So he was prepared to go out, maybe try some late evening hunting or something, because afterwards Merle would be home for a little while.

The girl had been giggling, looking him up and down with a small smile, smelling of cigarettes and perfume, blonde hair bouncing off her shoulders in a wave, and wearing a dress that was clearly made to show off skin. It had made him feel uncomfortable, and he’d been a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to see her for much longer. But then Merle had nudged the woman further into their home, nodding for her to go down the hall to their room, and telling her to get herself all ready. Daryl had been ready to leave, more than ready to not have to be around to hear the loud and weird noises people made when they were doing that sort of stuff. But Merle’s hands had fallen upon his shoulders, kept him in place, made their eyes meet when his brother spoke.

“She’s for you baby brother.”

Daryl remembers being confused as hell by those words. At first he’d thought it was a joke, one of the ones where Merle would tease him for being so different before laughing in his face and telling him to get lost. He’d been so ready to roll his eyes and huff about being turfed out of his own home again, just so Merle could sleep with some woman again. But Merle’s hands had squeezed on his shoulders, gotten his attention, and made him understand that it wasn’t a joke.

"I'm serious Daryl, it's high time you became a man and stopped all this bullshit.” Merle had said, his mouth a tight line, that tiny frown between his eyebrows and Daryl hadn’t liked that look at all. Merle’s serious face usually meant he was gonna get a smack to the back of the head if he wasn’t listening properly and understanding. But he hadn’t understood at all. “You're a laughing stock boy, nothing but a joke, all because you can't get some pussy. I'm tired of it, no brother of mine is gonna be a virgin." Merle had all but barked at him. His brother was an intimidating son of a bitch when he wanted to be, and Daryl remembers it as one of the few times that he'd been scared of his brother. It had made him flinch, made his eyes dart to the floor and he remembers wanting Merle to let go of him. 

"But Merle, I don't want no girl." He'd tried to protest of course, voice stumbling over the words as he'd tried to explain it all. It had been so sudden, so different from the norm that he’d been lost immediately, shaking his head and wanting things to go back to normal. He always went out when Merle brought a girl back with him, but that time Merle had had that hard face, the one that said he wasn't going to listen no matter what and that he knew best. It had made him quiver, and he'd reached out to snag his fingers in Merle's shirt, trying to get his brother to understand. "Don't want no pussy." He'd tried, but sometimes Merle was hard to talk to, sometimes his brother didn’t do listening so good.

Merle hadn’t wanted to hear him, he’d been mad at him, angry, his face sharp and hard as he’d spoken, with his fingers digging into Daryl’s shoulders tight enough to hurt. Daryl remembers his heart beating fast when Merle’s fingers had snagged his shirt into his grip, his brother all but dragged him down the hallway, with that hard look on his face and anger in his voice. “Enough of your bullshit Daryl. Course you want pussy, you’re a man ain’t ya?”

He remembers being lost. Of course he was a man, certainly wasn’t a girl or anything, but he remembers being so confused as to why Merle was asking that. Course he was a man, it was why he was a brother and not a sister. He knew the difference. So he’d nodded, chewed on his lip and stopped squirming for a moment to try and focus on his brother. To try and get some answers. “I’m a man.” He’d replied, certain of that fact alone if nothing else.

His brother had been grinning, but it hadn’t been a nice smile. He knew Merle’s faces and he knows that one hadn’t been a nice smile, but more one that didn’t reach his eyes. A hard smile. He’d never liked Merle’s hard smiles.

“Attaboy.” Merle had liked his answer, but Daryl hadn’t been sure why. “Now you’re gonna go in there, and Candy is gonna take right good care of you. Told her you don’t know what you’re doin’, so she’s gonna give you a taste of everythin’ and make your first time memorable.” The hard smile had still been there, with a laugh behind it too. Everything he’d ever heard Merle and his friend’s laughing about had rushed to the front of his mind, dirty words, dirty acts, things he had a vague idea of and some that he’d had no clue about all mixing together and confusing him further. He remembers wanting to make it stop, but Merle’s hand had been on his shoulder, steering him to their room, as he’d leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Make me proud little brother.” He’d been shoved through the door after that, Merle grabbing it and slamming it shut behind him, leaving him no escape.

She’d been there. Candy. He didn’t think that was her real name, but she’d been sitting on his bed, and the dress that hadn’t covered much before had been removed completely, thrown to the floor and leaving her in her underwear. On his bed.

Daryl remembers it had been hard to breathe. Everything had felt really hot, and tight in his chest. A part of him had wanted to leave, open the door back up and tell her to go away. But Merle had had a hard smile. Merle wasn’t so nice when he had a hard smile. And he’d wanted Merle to stay home for a few days so badly. So he’d stayed where he was, swallowed down the tight feeling as best he could, but he still hadn’t been able to look at her when she was like that.

Candy hadn’t seemed to notice his nervousness, she had spoken with a smile in her voice, light and bright and happy “Merle tells me you ain’t never done nothing with nobody before.” He remembers her asking, and he’d looked up enough to see her head tilted in question. “That true honey?”

He’d known even then that it was different. Wrong. Something that everybody else in the world did different to him. Even if they hadn’t done nothing with somebody, people did things to themselves. With themselves. He knew that, knew men especially did that more than women. But not him. Not ever. His body had done some things when he was sleeping, but he’d never wanted to do anything about it voluntarily. It had all seemed too much. Too loud. Too messy. Too intense and full of questions and being too hot, too close to someone else, too much of everything for him. It was just too much. It had been too hard to try and explain, so instead, he’d simply nodded in answer.

There is another giggle, bright and sweet, but somehow seeming more frightening than if she’d been yelling. She’d gotten up, walked over to him and he remembers pushing back against the door and wanting to get further away from her when she’d approached him. “A sweet little thing like you?” Her fingers had reached out, caught in the front of his shirt and began undoing buttons. He remembers curling his hands into fists. But knowing never to hit a girl. “I’d have thought you’d have had all the girls wanting a piece.” Her voice had been funny, like a purr of a cat, slower than before, darker or something.

She’d been in her underwear, nothing else on, and so close, so damned close to him. He hadn’t been able to look at her, he remembers trying to look at anything else, the floor, the ceiling, the window, anything else but her. It made him feel jumpy to have her so close, to have her fingers unbuttoning his shirt and spreading it open so her fingers could trail over his chest. It made him breath funny, heavier, and his chest felt tighter, achier. He’d wanted to pull back and push away at the same time but the door was against his back and hard, blocking the way.

It had made him feel so nervous. Her fingers had kept moving on him, over his skin, making him jump each time she unbuttoned the next pinch of his shirt. He’d swallowed, his throat dry as he’d tried to speak, tried to be polite, to be normal, but it was so hard and so confusing. “A p-piece of what?” Daryl remembers asking, lips and tongue stumbling over the words pathetically.

Candy had giggled again, nice and bright and so opposite to how he was feeling. “You’re funny.” Her voice had been low, it had felt dangerous. But then her fingers ran out of buttons, and moved down to his pants, and breathing became a whole lot harder to do for him. “A sweet little piece of you, of course. I know I want some.” She’d said, and for some reason it had sounded a lot more scary than what he supposed was meant to be ‘sexy’.

Her fingers had popped buttons open, then moved to drag down his flies and he remembers curling his toes in his socks when she’d let his pants drop down to pool around his ankles. It didn’t feel good to be like this. It felt wrong. He felt too open, too naked, too raw and like she’d be able to see everything about him that he didn’t want her to see. Candy had dropped to her knees in front of him, still smiling, still saying things to him in that happy, light voice, but all he remembers hearing was how fast his heart had been beating in his ears. Her lips had pressed to his tummy, smearing the red of her lipstick onto his skin and making him shiver.

Everything had felt wrong. All Merle’s friends had always said they liked being naked with a girl, but he hadn’t even been naked and he’d felt sick. Like everything inside of him was squirming and wriggling to get out. His chest had been so tight, so bubbly, making his breath hitch and hiccup in his throat when he’d tried to breathe. Candy had been kissing his tummy still, her fingers reaching up to curl over the waistband of his underwear, when the first tear fell.

It’s not like he’d meant to start crying. But whatever it was in his tummy and chest that kept tightening and wriggling altogether wanted to get out. He’d felt so wrong, like he’d been squeezed into a tight space and couldn’t get out, even though he’d only been in his own bedroom and nowhere new. It hurt. Ached. Everything climbing on top of one another until he couldn’t hold it up anymore and stop it from falling.

“Honey, you okay?”

He remembers something breaking then. Something inside of himself had given up and everything had gone bad. “P-please st-stop.” His body had been trembling just as much as his lips as more tears had come forth, falling over his cheeks and dripping off his chin. Everything inside of him had felt wrong, felt tight and sick as he’d reached up to wind his fingers in his hair. Everything had been too much, and he hadn’t wanted any more. Squeezing his eyes shut had been his way of stopping it back then, thinking if he couldn’t see it, then it couldn’t be happening. “Please. No m-more.” He’d begged, even if Dixons weren’t ‘sposed to beg.

Closing his eyes had blocked out Candy’s face, the way she’d backed away from him, but Daryl knows she must have been disgusted with him. With his behaviour. But it had been too much. Too much. He’d been yanking at his hair, trying to bite down on his lips and smother his own pathetic tears when she’d shoved him aside to get out the door. He’d fallen over his own pants still bunched at his ankles, crashed to the floor and curled in on himself, hands still tangled in his hair as he’d sobbed. His tummy had felt sick, his chest had been too tight and kept catching when he’d tried to breathe.

“You ain’t paid me enough to deal with that Dixon!”

“Bitch I paid you more than enough! Get in there and get the job done!”

Stomping footsteps, he’d felt the door being shoved open, felt the breeze caused by it and curled up tighter, yanked on his hair to have something easier to focus on. He’d hiccupped, sobbed, and everything felt too tight, too close, too cramped and too much.

“Take your damned money and get out bitch. That pays for your mouth to keep shut you hear?”

He’d never liked fighting. Never liked hearing it, seeing it, being near it. He’d heard the padding of bare feet on the floor, the quick steps of someone wanting to get out fast, followed by the creak and slam of the front door being closed. Pulling on his hair had helped, made it easier because pain was simple, pain was easy, pain could be fixed. The sobs had caught in his chest, making him ache, making him wrench his head back to hit it against the wall to make things easier. It had hurt, it always hurt when he’d do that, but it helped make it easier. Makes things work for him to understand when it was confusing. Whenever something like that happened he always felt alone, lost in himself.

The next smack against the wall had been stopped by a hand. And even if Daryl knew it was Merle, it didn’t mean he’d wanted to open his eyes and face his big brother. Not when he’d fucked up again. His stomach had felt sick, churned up and with his chest tight it had only made him gag and heave. He’d gone to slam his head back again, wanting something easier, and only found Merle’s palm instead, moving to cradle his head and stop him from hurting himself. Of course he’d tried to stop crying, tried to bite on his lip and stop the sobs and the heaving, tried to stop being such a disappointment to his brother.

But Merle hadn’t left him. He’d sat there with him, on the floor, with him in nothing but an open shirt, his socks and his underwear, and waited it out with him. It had taken time, he’d tried to slam back his head again and been stopped by Merle’s hand, but it had helped. Merle hadn’t even barked at him when he’d slipped his thumb into his mouth and began sucking on it.

When he had been able to breathe better, could hear better and had finally opened his eyes again, Merle had been there. He’d felt ashamed of himself, weak, pathetic and like he didn’t deserve a brother like Merle, someone who was only ever trying to make him fit in like he should. But it hadn’t been his fault, it has just been so sudden and overwhelming and so close to him.

“’s too much.” He’d managed to mumble to Merle around his thumb, as he’d sniffed back the last of the tears and tried to get his breathing back to normal.

Merle hadn’t answered for a while. Instead his brother had fished out a handkerchief and scrubbed his face clean of tears and snot, wiping it roughly under his nose before tossing it aside and standing up. At first Daryl had been afraid. Merle had had that hard look on his face again, and when he was quiet it wasn’t always good. But his brother had helped him up to his feet, snatched up some sweat pants and helped him into them before he’d reached out to begin buttoning his shirt up for him. It had reminded Daryl of when he’d been little, and buttons, zips and poppers had done nothing but confuse him, leaving Merle to help him get dressed practically everyday.

“Didn’t do it to get you upset.” Merle had mumbled, eyes focussed on his fingers and not meeting Daryl’s eyes when he’d spoken. There had been a moment where Merle paused, licking at his thumb before rubbing at the smear of lipstick that had still been present on his tummy. “I never mean to get you upset Daryl, you know that right?” And when Merle had looked up to him and met his eye, of course Daryl had nodded in reply.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that Merle had only ever tried to help him be better. Be normal.

It’s why he’d hesitated with Carl. Telling the kid about sex was definitely not something he’d been planning to do, and he knows Carl hadn’t been asking for that, but he had wanted to know about women and how to talk to girls. The topic was so foreign to him, something he had no clue about, and it had been difficult to be honest about it to him. Merle had never liked it when he’d lied about something to him, and he knew being honest only ever made things easier, so he had told Carl the truth. However, where the kid had shrugged it off easily enough, it had left Daryl here, staring up at the ceiling and trying to ignore the want to soothe himself from the memories it had all brought up. His stomach still feels wobbly, all he can think of is how horrible it had felt to be there, almost naked and with that woman’s hands on him. He’d felt invaded, like she’d pushed too far into him and even now after all these years thinking about it still makes him feel like he did back then.

He’s not going to be able to sleep in here tonight, not when he can’t have the things that make him feel better. Daryl moves carefully as he stands up, making sure not to disturb Carl as he sets his crossbow down to the side of his bed. Sneaking his fingers beneath his pillow, he snags Merle’s shirt, curls it around his fingers and tugs it free from it’s hiding place before he pads out of their office cum bedroom barefoot.

It’s not the first night that he’s been unable to sleep, but it’s the first one that’s been brought on from bad memories instead of bad dreams or the just the inability to soothe himself the best way he knows how. He keeps his steps light as he heads down the hallway, his body already knowing the path from the previous few nights he’s been down here to not disturb anybody. It’s dark, only the light of the moon shining in past the curtains allowing him to see the outline of furniture as he moves past. It must be past midnight by now, creeping into the early hours at least and he knows he really does need to try and get at least a few hours of sleep tonight.

Moving past the living room, he can just see the outline of Shane on the couch, and there is another worry that’s been playing on his mind after yesterday. Shane. He and Carl had heard Shane and Lori fighting, he still didn’t like fights even after all these years, but there had been one part that had really upset him. Shane had spoken about leaving, and Lori had said it was a good idea.

He doesn’t want Shane to leave. Sure at first he’d been kind of afraid of the guy, since Shane was always so loud, and growly, and called him and Merle all sorts of names when he thought they couldn’t hear him. But that had been before. Before when he’d not liked any of them much and he and Merle were only staying to get some stuff before leaving and it being just to two of them again. It weren’t like that now. Things had changed and now, now these people were becoming his new made up family and he liked it. Shane was a part of that now, and the other man had helped him a lot. He’d given him the job of protecting Carl and Lori, he’d apologised after the barn, he’d helped after nightmares and when he hadn’t wanted to eat after crying and Shane fit in his life now. Shane had a place now, and he didn’t want him gone.

They were a family, a team, and they looked after each other. Besides, if Shane wants to keep Lori and Carl and the baby safe, then he needs to stay with them to make sure. But it doesn’t matter what he thinks, because he knows if Shane wants to go, then Shane will go. He doesn’t want him to, but it’s not like they were living under lock and key. Shane could leave anytime he wanted, all he had to do was walk out the door, take a car and some supplies and he could be gone just like that.

The thought makes him feel uneasy again, and Daryl finds himself glaring at the front door with venom at the mere idea of it all. He didn’t want Shane to leave, and he was going to stop it from happening before it even could. Quietly he pads over to the front door, bare feet barely whispering upon the floor as he moves. Settling himself on the floor, he leans back against the door, the wood pressing against his back through his thin vest, but it means he’ll be able to feel it should it be opened. No one would even be able to open it with him sitting there. It was a good plan, with him here like this, there was no way that Shane could sneak past him and leave without Daryl being able to intervene first. At least if he couldn’t sleep then he could be of use to the group, keeping them safe, keeping Shane safe and with them.

Weaving the fabric of Merle’s shirt between his fingers, he’s determined to fix everything. Now he’s away from Carl he can hold it close, let the fabric press against his cheek with one hand as he lifts his other to bring his thumb to his lips. It feels so natural for him to sit like this, thumb wedged between his lips as he sucks on it, the smell of Merle and home beside him, soothing the churning in his stomach and the worry in his chest. Things would be okay. Things would fix themselves, or he would fix them first.

When he’s like this, everything feels just that little bit better, a little easier for him to handle, and already the familiar motion of sucking on his thumb is helping. His stomach doesn’t feel so full of awful butterflies, it’s easier to remember that though bad things happened before, they weren’t happening now and he was okay. It makes it better for him. Makes it easier to breathe. Carl didn’t know he still sucked on his thumb, and that was okay. No one was going to make him do anything he didn’t want to do, and that was okay. He was guarding the door so Shane couldn't leave without him knowing, and that was okay. He’s better like this.

It means it’s easier to just sit and close his eyes, to focus on the feel of Merle’s shirt against his skin, and the way every time he breathed in through his nose he could smell his big brother as if he was right there with him. Each suck on his thumb makes it easier, it helps him calm down, helps him breathe and remember that he’s here and safe and with family. Things are easier for him when he can be like this, when all the confusing thoughts and questions can be pushed away, and he can just sit and have some quiet time with his thumb. It was his own little time out, where everything else in the world could be on pause and he could just not have to think for a while. The world never felt as loud and difficult when he could sit like this and calm himself down.

He could sit here all night if he has to, because things are easier like this. Where he can protect the group from Shane leaving, not have to risk being seen by Carl, and just pretend, if only for a little while, that Merle was here beside him. With his thumb, everything feels safer, calmer, easier, and when he’s not so caught up with worries he knows he can do a better job at keeping his family safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for being patient with me guys! I know it's been a while since I've updated but that's mainly due to me having a lot less time to write than I used to have. But I can assure you all that none of my fics are intended to be abandoned, and The Real Me especially has gone from what was intended to be a oneshot, to something that has been planned all the way up to the current timeline of the show. It means a lot to me that you guys are all still enjoying this fic, please remember that you can send ideas for any of my multiple chapter fics through either the comment sections here or through my tumblr. Ideas are always welcomed and though I can't promise to use all of them, having a wonderful selection can help me through times of low motivation or no inspiration. Love all you guys and hope you continue to enjoy the fic! <3 x


	16. Then and Now

For a moment it’s like he’s home.

He can smell Merle. When he’d been smaller, and mom had been dead and it was just him and dad at home, sometimes he’d used to sneak into Merle’s bed at night. Usually after a bad dream had scared him, and he knew dad didn’t want to hear him crying about it. So he’d used to climb into Merle’s bed across from his own in their small bedroom, he would wrap himself up in the sheets, bury his face in the pillow and for a moment it was almost like Merle was still there. It had helped when he was afraid, when he was scared, or felt lonely and lost. In those moments he could just pretend for a little while, he could imagine that he was pressed against Merle’s chest and wrapped in his arms and safe. It didn’t always work, but usually it would make him feel a lot better.

Right now it’s working. He can smell Merle, and it makes things better. Merle has always been his favourite. He doesn’t remember much of mom, and he knows his dad had never liked him, but Merle was different. Because even if their dad had told him multiple times that he was difficult, Merle never stopped trying to help him be better. His big brother had taught him things to make life easier, and he’d made sure he knew how to act better in front of people, and he knows that he’s only the person he is today, because of Merle. Maybe it’s why he misses him so much, because even if he’d gone without Merle before, he’d always known he was going to come back. Of course he worries for Merle, and with the walkers out there, sometimes it’s hard to remember that Merle has always come back to him before now, and he was going to come back this time too. He had to. They were going to live together, and be happy, and Merle was going to be so proud of him for managing to make it this far.

It had been what Merle had told him. When he was very little. When the nights were peppered with the sounds of punches and yelling, and he was a lot smaller and scared of a lot more things. They would sit in their room, hide together, Merle would let him sit in his lap and tell him about how they were going to leave one day. When they were bigger, when they were older, even older than Merle was back then, they were going to run away and not have to see dad anymore. Just him and Merle and the open road. Merle had promised him. It had kind of happened a little bit. When him and Merle used to travel around in the truck, and do jobs, and hang out with Merle’s friends and sleep wherever they parked up that night. But then Merle would have to leave again, like he always did.

Juvie. Special jobs. Hanging out with friends that didn’t want to see Daryl. The pills he wasn’t allowed to touch. The army. Prison. It was always the same. Merle would take him back to dads and leave him there while he went away for a while. They both knew he didn’t do so good on his own, so he’d always had to go back and stay with dad. He’d never liked that much.

It’s where he’d been when it had first started. When the news was reporting a virus sweeping the nation, and then a week or so later they were talking about the riots, the looting, the destruction happening in the cities. He’d never been so interested in the news, but soon enough it was the only thing on the TV, and his dad had been forced to swear at it instead of the football games he usually yelled at. Daryl always knew better than to ask questions, dad never liked when he’d asked questions, so he’d kept the confusion to himself when things had started going wrong. He’d never liked the punishments dad handed out for being bad, so he had always tried his best to be good when he was living with him. It didn’t always work; he could never seem to stop being bad and needing to be punished for it.

Then the infection had reached their neck of the woods. The walkers had shown up. Dad had been bit.

That’s when Merle had come back. Because Merle always came back eventually, he always came back for him. Daryl knows that. It had been the same then, when he’d not understood what was happening on the news, and dad was looking sicker and sicker every hour with a towel pressed against the bite on his shoulder; Merle had come home. He’d been so happy to see him because things had been starting to get real confusing and not the same as usual, he’d never been so good with change, but Merle usually always helped him out. So when Merle had shown back up he’d of course been happy, wrapping his arms about his big brother’s neck and hugging him tight.

“Did you get bit? Daryl? Daryl did you get bit?” Merle had looked scared, and he’d been afraid then because nothing had ever scared Merle before.

He’d shaken his head, curled his fingers into Merle’s vest and he remembers not wanting to let go. At first it had all been on the TV, safe and behind a screen like a movie or a TV series, not real and all make believe, it couldn’t hurt him if it was just there. But Merle had looked scared, and then dad had laughed from his chair at them both. “Well look who’s come crawlin’ back now shit’s hit the fan. What’s the matter boy? Scared the monsters are gonna get ya?” He’d been laughing, the towel pressed against his shoulder stained a deep red, and Daryl remembers thinking dad looked sick, pale, sweaty. “You always were a pussy Merle.” Dad had spat out and Daryl had never heard a bigger lie.

Merle weren’t no pussy. Merle was the toughest asshole he’d ever met, and Daryl knew that if Merle had come back to him then things were going to be okay, because Merle always came back for him and Merle always made things better. He’d wanted to hang on to his brother, wanted to keep his fingers tangled in Merle’s clothing and follow him around like he had when he’d been smaller. Usually Merle yelled at him for it. Would smack him upside the head and tell him to quit being such a baby. But he hadn’t that time, and for some reason, that had been the moment that Daryl knew things were bad. If Merle was letting him cling and break the rules he’d been taught, then things were definitely bad.

His brother had sighed, he’d sounded so old, and tired. Daryl had decided he didn’t like that sound at all.

“Daryl, you go get your bag and your bow. Get in the truck and wait there for me.” Merle had told him, but it hadn’t been his usual Merle voice. Instead of sounding strong and stubborn, he’d sounded quieter, like he hadn’t had the energy to be any louder. Of course he’d nodded, but he hadn’t quite been able to let go of Merle’s vest just yet.

He’d chewed on his lip, wanted his thumb but known that dad wouldn’t be happy if he’d done it. Instead he’d ducked his head, focussed on watching his fingers tangle in the leather of Merle’s vest, and stroke over the old, worn fabric. It had helped stop the worry from knotting up his stomach so bad. “We goin’ away again Merle?” He’d asked, voice quiet, barely even a mumble between them.

“Yeah.” Merle had told him, one hand on the back of Daryl’s neck, rubbing lightly, keeping him close, holding him steady when everything around him had felt uneasy. “Yeah we’re gonna go away for a little while.” He’d sounded so tired, he’d wondered if Merle had been sleeping okay. His tummy had felt tight, he’d felt lost, and even if he hadn’t understood a lot, he knew something bad was happening and that he didn’t want Merle to leave him again to cope with it alone.

“Is dad coming?” He’d asked, not willing to let go of Merle’s vest, not wanting to go to the truck without answers, without knowing what was gonna happen. Merle gave him rules for a reason. He laid things out nice and easy for him to follow, to understand, and he liked having a plan, it let him know the next move, let him take the right path and not make mistakes so much. “Where’re we gonna go? Is it far?” He liked having a plan.

Merle had grit his teeth, the hand on the back of Daryl’s neck squeezing a little and he hadn’t been sure if it was out of frustration or something else. But Merle hadn’t yelled at him, his brother had just breathed out a sigh and held him for a moment longer before repeating himself. “Just go get in the truck Daryl.” His voice had sounded quiet, like a secret just between the two of them, and Daryl had known not to ask another question after that.

So he’d done as he was told and gone to get his bag and bow. He’d always kept a bag packed. One that sat at the end of his bed, with fresh clothes, the usual wash bag stuff, and everything he’d needed to take with him should Merle show up out of the blue to get him. He had always been ready to follow Merle no matter what. He’d snatched up his bow, grabbed his hunting knife and sheathed it before grabbing the bag and heading out to the truck, looking over to where Merle had been standing over their dad with a frown on his face. Daryl had known better than to ask another question.

He’d sat in the truck, bag at his feet, bow in his lap, fidgeting with his arrows and wondered about where they were going. Merle hadn’t said if there was a new job, he hadn’t mentioned them going hunting or nothing, he’d just told him to get his stuff and get in the truck. So he’d done it, and he’d waited as patiently as he could for Merle. Eventually his brother had come out, closing the door of their dad’s place behind himself, with the rifle over his shoulder and a duffle bag in his other hand. He remembers being confused, because Merle hadn’t mentioned hunting, and he didn’t know of any other reason to bring the rifle with them. The bag was tossed in the back besides Merle’s bike, and even if he didn’t know what was inside, he could hear that it was probably ammo.

Chewing on his lip he’d tried to not ask any dumb questions that would have pissed Merle off, but he’d had so many that he wanted an answer to. His brother had looked tired, like he’d wanted to just sleep forever and ever. He’d known that Merle didn’t like to be pushed, so he’d stayed quiet, chewing on the tip of his thumb when Merle had started the truck, and tried not to be a pest. But Merle had sighed, closed his eyes for a second, just a second and squeezed his grip on the steering wheel. He’d looked lost, and that had scared Daryl more than anything else that had been happening.

“Merle?” His voice had quivered a little, even if he hadn’t wanted it to.

There had been another sigh, Merle had rested his forehead against the steering wheel and not turned to face him. His brother had sounded so different from normal, not like Merle at all when he’d spoken. “Yeah baby brother?”

He’d swallowed, set his bow down in the foot well with his bag and tried to piece everything together. “Dad’s not coming with us is he?” Daryl had asked, and he’d known the answer even before Merle had replied.

“No. No dad’s not coming with us Daryl.” He’d figured out what the tone of Merle’s voice was right then. Defeated. His brother had sounded defeated, and that had scared him even more than everything else that he’d seen on the TV. Merle could fix anything, could survive anything, and Merle always helped him too. If Merle was sounding like that, then things had to be bad. It had scared him.

The blood under Merle’s fingernails had scared him more.

Usually when he started crying, Merle would yell at him, or shove him away and tell him to stop being a pussy. That time, his big brother had pulled him closer, cupped the back of his head and guided him to rest against his shoulder, let him bury himself in his neck and cry everything out. He’d been scared, been unsure and lost because all the rules had suddenly been changed around him, and even Merle didn’t seem to know what to do about it all. It had been frustrating, terrifying, and he’d known even then that it was something a lot bigger than just him, Merle, and them not coming home after going away for a while.

But even then, even through the tears, and the fear, and the knowledge that whatever was happening to the world was huge and terrifying; he’d trusted Merle. Because in that moment of being in Merle’s hold, being able to smother himself with his brother’s scent, and hide away in him; he’d felt safe. Merle had always looked out for him, always been there when he’d needed him most, taught him how to act and behave and made him better. If there was anyone who could keep him safe, that he could trust, that wasn’t going to abandon him when things got too much; it was his big brother. Merle knew he didn’t do so good on his own, and his brother was going to make sure they both survived the shit that had hit the fan.

Merle had always made him feel safe. It’s why he loved him. It’s why he knew that Merle wasn’t dead; he was just gone for a while. Because even if Merle never said it, Merle loved him too and he always, always, always came back for him. Always. He could always rely on Merle coming back to him.

It’s why he has his brother’s shirt. It’s why it helps him sleep. It’s why he buries his face in the fabric until all he can breathe in is Merle’s scent, and pretend even just for a second that it’s just him and his brother and everything is okay again. Things are tough, but like this he can lose himself, can latch onto his thumb and enjoy the familiar comfort for a while with Merle’s shirt. He’d never had a permanent home before, he was always back and forth, but with Merle’s smell around him, just for a moment he could pretend. Things are better like this.

Keeping his eyes closed he suckles on his thumb quietly for a while, back against the front door of the farm house, Merle’s shirt against his face as he relaxes. It helps the worries in his head fade down into nothing more than a tiny niggle, one that can easily be ignored. Daryl isn’t sure how long he sits there, but it must be a while, certainly long enough for him to have fallen into a light doze when there is a nudge to his shoulder.

“Daryl?”

He hums out a murmur of annoyance at being disturbed, nuzzling back into Merle’s shirt and taking another suck on his thumb. There is another nudge to his shoulder, then the hand rubs at the top of his arm, and slowly begins to coax him around to stirring properly. Blinking himself awake, Daryl finds that it’s still dark out, clearly no more than a couple of hours from when he’d trailed out of his and Carl’s room to try and find some peace from his anxious thoughts. Keeping Merle’s shirt in his fist, he rubs at the grit in his eyes, humming a little in question when he finds Shane crouched before him in the darkness, with a gentle smile on his face.

It’s actually not a bad thing to wake up to when one of the alternatives was walkers, and he finds himself not worrying so much about being found with Merle’s shirt and his thumb edged in his mouth. Shane had seen him doing it before, after nightmares when he’d been wearing Merle’s shirt and latched onto his thumb for comfort, and the other hadn’t ever laughed at him or reprimanded him for it. So he doesn’t feel nervous, or worried about it, he doesn’t even feel the need to stop immediately when Shane was giving him a soft smile, not a hard one.

“What you doin’ sleeping on the floor there bud? Another nightmare?” Shane sounds concerned for him, and the hand on his shoulder that had woken him up, is still there and rubbing lightly, keeping the contact as the other man talks. It helps. “Everything alright?”

Daryl hums out a noise that’s in-between a yes and a no, because the only thing that was wrong was the stuff in his head and he knew that sometimes that didn’t always count as being a real problem. He doesn’t want to bother Shane if he doesn’t have to, he’s pretty sure the other man doesn’t need him bitching about something that didn’t affect the rest of the group. So he shrugs, and rubs the fabric of Merle’s shirt between his fingers, finding the soft feeling soothing. “’s nothin’.” He mumbles, even if his worries are still making his tummy feel tight.

Shane gives a small huff of a laugh, and instead of moving away he instead moves closer, slumping to the floor beside Daryl and joining him in resting back against the front door. “Can’t be nothin’ if it’s got you comin’ on out here in the middle of the night.” The other man points out, and Daryl has to admit that he’s not exactly hiding his anxiety very well. Well it had been the middle of the night, and the main person he’d wanted to hide away from had been Carl, so at least in that regard he was succeeding. Still he shrugs, rubbing at the fabric of Merle’s shirt in his lap, still not sure about trying to explain it all. Sometimes it was hard to describe how he thinks to other people. But Shane doesn’t leave, doesn’t lose the easy smile on his face when he speaks again. “Come on man, talk to me, you never know, it could help.”

He hums in indecision around his thumb, but he has to admit that he’s spoken to Shane before about things. When the nightmares had kept him awake and made him afraid to go back to sleep, he’d spoken to Shane and it had made him feel better. Besides, Shane wasn’t the same person that he was at the quarry. There wasn’t any bad blood between them anymore, they’d bonded, they shared, and he was the only other one that knew about Otis. No, he trusted Shane, but that wasn’t the issue.

It was words and getting it out that was the problem. He knows his brain doesn’t work the same as everybody else’s. Trying to describe the way he thinks is difficult, especially when he wasn’t smart enough to know the right words to explain it all. Emotions were the difficult thing for him, he couldn’t read them so well on other people, and the ones that got caught in his chest made him feel lost and alone. So he shrugs, because the words are lost to him, he fidgets with Merle’s shirt and sucks on his thumb because he knows this, he knows that it makes him feel better and doesn’t confuse him like emotions do.

There is a quiet pause between them, but it’s not awkward, and it feels like Shane knows he’s not trying to be rude. The other man nods, and when he speaks Shane keeps his voice low, quiet through the darkness they’re sitting in. “Well I know you ain’t been sleeping well lately. We can all see it Daryl, you’re always the first one up, and you look tired man. Look like you could use some real sleep.” He’d thought he’d been hiding it well, but it seems that they’d still seen it anyway. He feels pathetic. “Something’s got to be bothering you to interrupt your sleep, and it’s not healthy to keep that locked away inside.”

Daryl knows it’s not good. He needs sleep because tiredness made it harder to concentrate and easier to make mistakes, and if they made mistakes nowadays then it could mean injury or worse. It wasn’t good for him and it wasn’t good for the group. He knows it’s not fair to all of them to be weak when they were depending on him for things. The responsibility of keeping each other safe was shared between them all, and he was the weak link here. But it’s hard, because he knows it’s not something that other people had to deal with. Normal people. People like Shane. So he shrugs again, the words fail him and he feels bad for that.

Still Shane doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get pissed off, doesn’t take it as him being difficult, he just seems to understand that sometimes it’s hard for him to speak. There is still the comforting warmth of Shane’s body beside him, his support is obviously there and Daryl can hear the concern in his voice when he continues. “Is there something wrong with your room? Is that it?” Shane is trying to work it out for him, trying to help with the words and find answers that he can’t quite explain to him.

Again he shrugs, because the answer is both a yes and a no. There is something wrong with his room, but it’s not the thing that’s wrong, it’s how he feels about the thing. Sighing a little, Daryl gives one final suck to his thumb before he lets it fall from his mouth, hand moving down to his lap to stroke over the fabric of Merle’s shirt when he couldn’t have his thumb and speak at the same time. Well he could, but Merle was the only one who could understand him when he speaks around it. “I… I don’t sleep so good if I can’t…” His voice is a whisper as he explains, and he just hopes it doesn’t sound as pathetic as he feels. “If I can’t have my thumb.”

It sounds stupid. He knows he sounds like a dumb baby, but it’s the truth, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that telling the truth was always the better option.

Again Shane nods beside him, he doesn’t move away, he doesn’t snort out a laugh or look at him any different. He just accepts it and continues. “Okay. That’s okay Daryl, you know you’re allowed to do whatever you want so long as you’re not hurting anyone.” Shane tells him and Daryl has to let out a sigh and shake his head at that.

“Carl will think I’m a-“

“No.” Shane cuts him off before he can finish his explanation, but he’s not mad, he just looks determined. Firm. His voice is at a level that shows he’s serious, but it’s not an angry voice. “No Carl won’t think of you any differently.”

He huffs out a small laugh at that. He knows Carl would think of him differently. It’s one thing for everybody to know that he is the way he is, but it’s another to be laughed at for it. It’s not normal, it’s not what adults do, and he knows exactly why Carl would laugh at him. “Carl said that Rick told him, no more kid’s stuff.” He explains, tracing patterns over Merle’s shirt with his still damp thumb. “Sucking my thumb is kid’s stuff. Only babies do it.” It’s said with a small shrug, as if it’s not such a big deal, or more that he knows it shouldn’t be such a big deal, but it is. It really is for him.

But Shane is there, shaking his head with that same small smile on his lips, and there is nothing but understanding in his voice when he asks his next question. “Nah man. Does sucking your thumb help? You said you don’t sleep well without it, so it’s gotta help you relax somehow.”

“Yeah.” He has a feeling that Shane already knew the answer before he’d asked, but even if he can’t explain everything, he knows he can describe how sucking on his thumb makes him feel. “It helps when things feel…too much.” It’s what he’d said when he was smaller, when Miss June had asked him the same question and wanted to know why he did it. Somehow it soothed him, it made things not feel so scary, and he could cope better when he had his thumb. “I’ve always done it, but Merle always told me it’s only s’posed to be for when things are real bad, or for bedtime. But before now, I only ever shared a room with Merle, I dunno if it’s allowed with Carl there.” He explains to Shane. “I dunno the rules.”

The rules were so important to him. Merle had looked after him like that, given him a guideline to live by, something so damned easy for him to get even if he wasn’t smart. Rules were rules and he could follow them, he didn’t have to question himself when he had them. They were real and they were solid and it had felt like his whole world had come crumbling down when the walkers had turned up and brought down the structure he lived his life by. He’d been left stranded, and without Merle there to guide him, to give him new rules and talk him through it all, he was getting more and more lost as each day went by. Merle had made sure he could survive with the rules and it was scary to try and wade through this new world without that guidance. His thumb helps. Merle’s shirt helps, and he rubs the soft fabric through his fingers, feeling the familiar texture and he doesn’t care if it’s babyish to do it; because it helps. Sometimes having the feel of the fabric, and something he knows so well to focus on, it makes it easier to cope.

Beside him Shane nods, and even if he’s not the best at explaining, he feels that the other man gets it. Gets him. “Your brother gave you a lot of rules to follow huh?”

Daryl nods, letting his fingers continue the soothing petting motions over Merle’s shirt as he looks to the other man. “Was to help me.” He explains, his voice soft, another secret shared just between he and Shane. “I ain’t the same as other people. Sometimes… sometimes I don’t understand so good, things get confusing and I get lost. The rules help make it easier for me. I like ‘em, but nowadays it feels like they don’t fit right anymore.” Because ever since the walkers the world had changed, and he hadn’t quite been able to change along with it as easily as Merle had.

Shane talks with his hands, and when it’s too hard to read his face, Daryl finds himself watching his hands instead. “Just because you ain’t the same as everybody else, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, you know that right? And it’s okay for you to just be you, and just do whatever feels right for you. Ain’t nobody here that’s gonna care, or gonna laugh, or think any less of you for it. Just be Daryl.”

Thing is, it was easy to say, but a lot harder to let himself believe that. His whole life he’d been told to keep it hidden, for his own good, to keep him safe. But now he was being allowed to just do as he wanted and it didn’t seem to be impacting the group’s safety at all. It was difficult to get his head around sometimes.

“Yeah.” He muses, thumb automatically lifted to his mouth so he can rub the tip of it across his lips. “Rick said so too when I was upset the other night. It’s just… I ain’t never been allowed to before now.” And even if he can admit to always wanting to just be allowed to act how he wants, there is a lot of trepidation over it all. As if someone might snap at him any second for not hiding himself away like he’s always had to. Sighing a little he slumps further against Shane’s side, finding the steady warmth of the other man comforting and real. “It’s… it’s different.”

“Well the world is different now. We’re all different now.” Shane points out and he has to agree with him. He thinks a lot of things have had to change for a lot of people lately. “I think it’s okay for you to be different too.”

He chews on the tip of his thumb for a while, just rolling the words and what they mean around his head. “You really think Carl won’t mind?” It’s a worry, because it was one thing to be seen as a friend, as a confidant to the kid, but it was another to be pushed aside and seen as a baby. To be seen as a burden instead of an asset. He could hunt, could kill walkers and try his best to protect the group, but would they want his help if he acted in the way that felt natural for him?

“I know he won’t.” and he figures that he should listen to Shane. He’d known Carl for all of his life anyhow, and if there was someone that knew him it would be Shane. Kids didn’t talk to their parents about everything, but he has a feeling that Shane had been Carl’s go to guy when he had problems before. “Carl will understand, he knows that sometimes it’s the little things that make us feel better, and I know he wouldn’t want you to stop yourself being able to sleep comfortably just because you’re afraid of him finding out. Just do what you need to do Daryl, and nobody is gonna have a problem with it. We’ll have you whatever way you come.” A comforting hand is pressed to his knee, squeezes lightly and when he looks up Shane is smiling to him softly, reassuringly through the darkness. It helps. It’s nice to have someone believe in him and at least he knows he has one person on his side in all of this. “So you ready to try going back to bed now?”

But that question makes him tense, his teeth catch on his lower lip and he knows Shane can feel his uncertainty as well as hear it in his voice when he asks. “If I go to bed, will you still be here when I wake up?” Because knowing he’s allowed to suck on his thumb in front of Carl was one thing, but there’s the second worry that’s been gnawing away at him all night long.

“Where would I go?” Shane asks and Daryl can hear that he’s confused with his line of thought.

Sighing a little he doesn’t make a move to get up and return to bed, not when he only had one answer. Besides, if he was telling Shane all his worries, he should let him know the one that Shane could actually help fix. “Heard you and Lori arguing before. Said you might leave.” He tells him, and he can’t help but watch Shane’s face, even if he’s not good at reading emotions, he knows anger and if he sees it he wants to know so he can avoid it.

However, there is no anger, no screwed up tense look on Shane’s face. Instead there is a quiet sigh, once that seems to use all of Shane’s breath and leave him slumped a little in defeat beside him. For a moment Shane doesn’t answer, but Daryl can see that he’s piecing a lot of little things together about tonight. “Is that why you’re down here? That why you decided to come sit at the front door?” Shane gets him, and can see his line of thought, even if it’s not the same as most other adults would have.

He shrugs, hanging his head and rubbing the fabric of Merle’s shirt between his fingers. “I don’t want you to leave.” Daryl mumbles.

Between them is a moment of silence, and it’s not awkward. Daryl knows that Shane is just thinking, probably trying to find the best way to explain things for him, and he admits to actually kind of liking that Shane takes the time for him. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable with Shane anymore, instead he feels like they’re starting to all find their places in the group, with each other. It’s nice to be accepted, and to be allowed to share these worries he’s been having, as well as knowing that he’s not going to be laughed at for having them. All Shane wants to do is help him, and that’s a nice feeling to have.

So he waits, he’s as patient with Shane as Shane is for him, and when Shane does begin to open up, he feels like he is only understanding the other man more and more.

“I admit that I thought about leaving for a while.” Shane reveals to him, and Daryl knew it, he’d been able to feel it before, he’d just not known what the tension he’d felt was. “When Rick first came back, Lori was so mad at me, but I honestly had thought that Rick was dead. I would never had left him there if I’d known otherwise. I thought about going off on my own, giving them space, because it’s hard sometimes with Rick and Lori, and now with the baby and everything… I just want to keep everybody safe. It’s just so complicated man, with me and Lori.” Shane tells him, running his fingers through his hair and sighing deeply. He seems tired; maybe the whole issue was just exhausting for him. Having to deal with that many feelings felt like it would be tiring, Daryl knew he’d be completely worn out by it all.

Still, he wants to help any way he can and even if he’s not so good with relationships and everything like that, he does know one thing for certain. “But you can’t keep everybody safe if you ain’t here. Can’t protect ‘em if you run away.” Because he remembers Merle. He’d always come back to him, Merle always did come back for him, but when he was gone, things were so much more difficult to deal with. Things were harder when he was on his own, and he’d known that if Merle had just been home with him, then he wouldn’t have made so many mistakes, he wouldn’t have been so bad and needed to be punished by their dad. You could only look after someone if you were there.

“I ain’t running away man, but I just don’t know if Lori wants me to stay.” Shane points out, and he sounds so defeated, so small and lost. It makes Daryl want to help him all the more, just like Shane had helped him. He lets the fabric of Merle’s shirt drape over Shane’s knee too, because Merle’s shirt always makes him feel better. “I don’t want to make things even more complicated than they already are. Don’t want to add even more pressure when our lives are stressed enough as it is. I don’t know what she wants.”

Daryl can understand that. He never knows what other people want; reading faces was hard and emotions were difficult so he can understand why Shane feels so lost. But he knows what is important too. “What do you want? Do you want to stay?” He asks, and even through the darkness he can see when Shane pauses and runs the question over in his head.

Maybe Shane had forgotten to even consider what he wanted from this situation.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Comes the answer and Daryl nods to encourage Shane like the other man had coaxed him earlier. “I want to keep everyone safe, want to be here to help with everything and make this place safe. Especially for the baby.” He muses and Daryl gives a small laugh around a tiny smile.

“The baby is gonna be real lucky. It ain’t even born yet and already everyone wants to help look after it.” Maybe it was only going to have one daddy and one mommy, but he knew that everybody was going to be looking after the baby when it got here. When he’d been smaller he’d barely had any family. Dad had always shouted at him and punished him for being bad, he doesn’t even really remember mom that well. The only person he’d had was Merle, and even he had been in and out all the time. There had never been anything permanent, but he knows that things were going to be different for this baby. They were all going to help as much as they could. It really does make it feel like a family.

Shane sighs, fingers running through his hair, and Daryl thinks it’s close to when he pulls on his hair to try and make it easier to focus. “Yeah but I don’t think Lori is gonna want me helping her or the baby out. She’s still pretty pissed with me man, I don’t know if me staying would only make things worse.” He really does sound stressed, and tired, and like he doesn’t need all this on top of the walkers and everything else. Daryl wants to help. “I don’t want to start fights anymore, we need to work together to survive this.”

He knows that’s true. Even before all of this he’d always done better with Merle there beside him. Having other people there was comforting, it helped, and it was always nice to have someone else there to back you up. “I want you to stay.” He mumbles with a shrug. “I think you should stay.” Because Shane had only ever tried to look after everyone and keep them safe, even if it had seemed mean at the time like with the barn. “I think we’d be safer if you stayed.” He honestly does think Shane is an important part of their team, or their family and there is one thing he is certain of. “I’d feel safer if you stayed.” Daryl is honest, and he knows that it’s okay to admit to being afraid when the entire world was different now. But he thinks that if Shane stays, it won’t be quite so bad.

For a while they sit together, their sides pressed against each other, just understanding each other. Daryl had only been honest and he hopes he’s helping Shane as much as Shane has helped him out. He knows he’s difficult, he knows he can be hard to deal with, but Shane has really gotten to know him better and doesn’t seem to mind helping him out. The other man kind of reminds him of Merle sometimes. When Merle wasn’t on the drugs, or so mad all the time, when Daryl can remember his big brother really caring and trying for him. That’s how it felt Shane was now, not so angry all the time and willing to take the time to help him out. It’s nice. It’s comforting, and anything that reminds him of Merle is a good thing.

“You said your brother’s rules helped you out before.” Shane says and Daryl of course nods in answer, a little unsure as to where Shane was going with the line of thought. “Made things easier for you?”

Daryl nods, running his fingers over the fabric of Merle’s shirt, smoothing it over his thigh lightly before he replies. “Things weren’t so confusing when I had rules to follow. Weren’t so scary. But the walkers went and messed everything up, and now without Merle to help me, sometimes I don’t know what the rules are anymore.” He knows he’s pouting, but he can’t help it. “Sometimes I get lost, and I don’t want to make a mistake when making a mistake could mean that somebody gets hurt.” Because he knows the most important thing is keeping everybody safe, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t know the rules. It’s not how other adults work, he knows that, but it’s how he works and it makes things so much easier when he just has rules.

Shane nods, runs his tongue over his lips and nods his head again. “Maybe I could try and help you out.” The other man tells him and Daryl is definitely listening to his idea. “Could maybe get us some rules to follow, to make things safer for everyone on the farm. Heck, maybe having something else to focus on will help me out. Might stop me from worrying about Lori and the baby, and give us both time to put it behind us.”

It could work. Daryl knows he’d be happier if he had rules to follow, and if it would stop Shane from worrying about Lori and the baby, maybe he’d find it easier too. The thought makes him smile, nodding along and feeling pretty grateful for Shane to even think of him, and how to make things work for him. “You’d have to stay on the farm to do that.” He points out with a shrug.

“Yeah I would.” Shane agrees and Daryl feels a whole lot better when Shane says that. He likes the idea of Shane helping him out, and even if he’d started the night full of worries and unable to even think of resting, now he’s beginning to feel a lot like his old self again. Shane had gone and managed to help soothe all his fears, getting rid of the knot of anxiety in his tummy and even gotten him smiling now and thinking of the future. It’s good. Things could be good for them all here. “Think you can go get some sleep now?” Shane asks him and when he nods he’s not lying to try and not be a problem. “We both gotta get some rest before tomorrow, still a lot of work to be done to get this place safe.”

He knows that, but at least now it didn’t seem so out of reach. It feels a lot more like they could do this together, and that as a team, a unit, a family, they could make this work. Shane was going to work on rules for him to have, and he was going to work on letting himself act how it feels natural for him. It will take time, it wasn’t going to be easy and he knows there will be tough times. But right now it feels like it could happen. Like maybe the walkers had fucked up how things were before, but they could start on maybe fixing the future.

They share a smile, Shane stands and helps him to his feet before clapping a hand to his shoulder, and the move doesn’t make him flinch this time. Instead he brushes past the other man with a quiet mumble of thanks, and heads back up to his and Carl’s room. Usually trying to sleep with Carl there would cause him to be flustered, but now, after talking with Shane he doesn’t even feel the littlest bit nervous. Instead he climbs back into his bed, setting the crossbow to the side and knotting Merle’s shirt around his fingers of his left hand. Bringing it up to his face he presses against it, enjoying the smell of Merle as he settles against his pillow and tugs the sheet over himself. There are still a few hours until morning, and he knows he’ll need to be well rested so they can get moving on making things better.

“Daryl?” Carl stirs, peering over to him through the inky blackness of the night from the mattress alongside his own. “Is everything okay?” The kid asks and Daryl knows the answer without even having to think about it.

“Yeah.” Slipping his thumb into his mouth he relaxes back against the pillow, rubbing the fabric of Merle’s shirt against his top lip and breathing in the scent of safety and home. Across from him Carl seems to relax, flopping back against his own bed with a sleepy nod and sigh. “Everything’s fine.” He mumbles from around his thumb, and he knows even if it’s not true just yet; it will be soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for all of your wonderful support guys! I can't help but love this fic, and I'm finding myself with so much inspiration for it that I just keep writing more and more. I'm excited to show you guys where it's going to go and I hope you'll continue enjoying it with me. I think it's going to be a lot of fun. Thanks guys and I hope you enjoy. <3


	17. Settling In

Life on the farm is different to how his life had been before. Daryl was used to a house being somewhere he slept in-between days, more like a base of operations rather than somewhere he liked being. But the Greene farm is more than just a base. The house is a home for all of them and as the weeks pass by things are starting to turn around for them all. There are still walkers of course, but they haven’t seen anything more than a group of five or so, nowhere near the amount there had been in the herd on the highway.

It almost lets them pretend that things are normal. Or as close to normal as they could get when so many of them lived together. The Greenes brought them into their home and they had given them so much more stability then they had had in a long time. Daryl finds the daily work to be kind of enjoyable. It’s not how his life had been before with no routine or rituals to stick to.

Before everything had happened his life had been day by day, and there was always a lot of questions that he had about things. Would they have enough money for power that day? Were the deer going to be grazing later into twilight? Was Merle going to come home and take him out on another job? What mood was his dad going to be in that day? Would he need to be punished?

Here things were answered easier and Daryl didn’t find himself asking so many questions all day long. Did they have water? Yes because T-Dog and Carol had been to the well and made sure they had enough. Was there any food? Yes because he’d been hunting and managed to bag a deer and they had enough power for the chiller to keep the meat fresh for a few days. Were there any walkers on the farm? No because they’d been patrolling the perimeter every hour or so and made the fences stronger and higher. It was their own little place of safety in the world and Daryl found they were all beginning to make their own little family that was growing closer and closer together.

That wasn’t the only thing that was growing though. With every single day Lori’s tummy was getting bigger and now they had it all marked on the calendar in a countdown to the baby being born. They don’t know for sure, but Hershel knows a lot about animals being pregnant, plus he’s had his own children, and between research books, and Lori and Carol’s experiences, they figure she’s at the four month mark. At first Daryl finds it really weird to live with. He’s never really been around women before, let alone a pregnant one and he’s not entirely sure what to do about it all.

He watches everybody else to try and get some sort of clue, but that doesn’t help much. Carl is funny. He’s always smiling and asking about the baby, rubbing over his mom’s slowly growing tummy and questioning if his mom can feel the baby move yet. Apparently she can’t, but that doesn’t stop Carl from hugging her and the bump, talking to it and wishing it a good night every evening before bed. Sometimes before going to sleep, Carl will talk to him about it, say how excited he is to be a big brother, and ask some questions when they’re in their room every night.

“What’s it like having a brother?” And he’d shrug because he didn’t know what life was like without one since he was the youngest. Merle had always been around, and the thought of not having a brother seemed too weird to be true. “Do you like having a big brother?” Yeah of course he did. He loved having Merle around to help him. Heck, if he hadn’t had Merle around helping him and looking after him, he’d probably have really screwed up and made loads more mistakes than he usually did. “Merle seemed kinda mean back at the quarry, but mom says that sometimes people don’t get on well in groups. Was Merle nicer when it was just the two of you?” Sure. Sometimes. If he was having a good day. Maybe Merle had never been the nicest of people, but he could be nice when he wanted to. He was nice to Daryl mostly, he looked after him, he helped him not screw up, and he knew Merle did love him, and he did like him too. When it was just him and Merle, Merle was nicer than he was in front of people. Merle was his first friend, and before Carl he’d been his only friend. “Do you miss him?”

That question hurts, because he does miss Merle. He misses him every single day and he’s always worrying for him. He knows Carl isn’t trying to upset him; the kid is just excited about getting a new baby brother or sister and wants to know everything he can. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to think about Merle. At least before the walkers he knew Merle was just away for a while, and he knew that Merle always came back for him. Wherever he was before, he was safe, and just busy doing things that Daryl wouldn’t be able to help with. But now…

Now with the walkers, things were so different. There wasn’t nothing no more. No people, no towns, no laws, no nothing and that was scary. Merle was out there in all of that. Somewhere out there, alone, and with only one hand now. That makes him shiver, the memory of finding his brother’s hand on the roof in Atlanta is awful and he tries to swallow down the horrible feeling it brings up. Daryl knows Merle does better on his own than he does, but still he can’t help but think it’s got to be bad out there. There were so many walkers, and Merle was by himself. Daryl knows the only reason he’s still alive is because he’s found a group, a family, who were willing to fight to help all of them survive this together. Merle didn’t do so good in groups, and it’s scary to think of him out there on his own.

He can’t be dead. Nothing can kill Merle but Merle. That’s what Merle always said, and he knows that Merle always comes back for him. He does. He’s always come back for him before and he was going to come back for him again this time. But the fear is still there, the absolute gut churning worry that something could happen to Merle out there and he wouldn’t even know about it. Maybe something had already happened, and he was going to be left waiting forever for Merle to come back when he couldn’t come back to him anymore. No. Merle always came back for him. Merle was fine and just away for a while and he was going to come back for him like always.

“Yeah.” He mumbles to Carl in return, knotting the fabric of Merle’s shirt in his fingers tighter where it lays on his pillow, burying his nose there so he can lose himself in the familiar smell of Merle and pretend for a while that everything was okay. “I miss him a lot.” An ache settles in his chest as he lies there, burying himself beneath his blanket and latching onto his thumb to help stop the worries from overwhelming him. He doesn’t want to talk anymore, or answer anymore questions, even if Carl didn’t mean to upset him. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. Turning on his side he puts his back to Carl, trying to hide his upset from the kid and not make him feel bad for upsetting him.

“Daryl? Are you okay?” Carl asks innocently, just a kid trying to help.

He doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, not without possibly crying the second he opens his mouth. So he doesn’t. Instead he stays latched on his thumb, rubs his cheek against the fabric of Merle’s shirt over his pillow and tries to remember that his brother has always come back for him before now. Yes he misses Merle. He misses him more than anything else in the world.

Carl doesn’t try to ask him anymore questions. Instead the kid settles back onto his own bed, and there is an awkward silence between them that hangs in the air. Usually they both had to be told to quiet down and go to sleep when Lori comes by to check on them, but not tonight. For the first time they’re silent, and Daryl tugs the blanket higher up to hide beneath it when she comes in to their room like she does every night. All there is showing is the mess of his slowly growing hair as he hides away, not even needing to watch to know the same routine Lori goes through every night with her son.

She comes in and kneels by Carl’s bed on the floor. Every night the same, even as the bump at her belly gets bigger day by day. Carl always settles down then, sinking onto his mattress, pushing into pillows as she lifts the blankets over him. Lori carefully tucks her son in, pushing the blankets around him, making sure he’s covered from head to toe. “It’s time for sleep now.” She always tells him, even if it usually makes Carl pout and whine for just another five minutes. Not tonight, instead Carl obeys, and doesn’t protest when Lori presses a kiss to his forehead and strokes through his hair. “Get some rest baby and remember your daddy and me are just down the hall if you need us okay?” Carl nods as always, rolls his eyes and usually mutters about not being a kid anymore. But tonight it’s silent, and it seems even Lori can feel that something is wrong. “You okay baby?” She asks, and Daryl hopes he hasn’t upset Carl enough for him to tell his mom on him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Carl tells her, but even Daryl can tell he’s hiding something. It makes him shrink further down beneath the blankets, hating that he’s the cause of Carl’s discomfort, but he couldn’t help getting upset when he thought about Merle. He just hopes that Carl still wants to be his friend. “But Daryl needs to be tucked in too.”

There is a small laugh, he knows Lori is smiling and probably shaking her head and the thought of such a thing. He was an adult, not a kid, he didn’t need to be babied. Even if he didn’t mind when people were softer with him than they were supposed to be. He can hear as Lori tucks the sheets around her son, and he knows she’s pushing her fingers through his hair like Carol did for him back at the CDC. It makes him curl up a little tighter, and suck on his thumb all the more when Lori protests. “Carl, I don’t think-“

“Mom.” But Carl is there, cutting her off, and even if silence follows he knows they’re talking without words. He can feel it, even if he’s not good at it, he knows other people can do that. They could read each other better than he could, and he bets they just understand each other without even having to try.

He feels very alone even if he’s not by himself. Without Merle around, there was nobody who really understood him the same way. These people were getting closer, becoming family, but it just weren’t the same. He misses Merle so much, and now he can’t stop himself getting upset when he thinks about how long they’ve been apart. But he doesn’t want to be upset, not when they’re both right there.

“Hey.” At first he can’t help but flinch when a hand finds his head, gentle fingers begin combing through his hair, and he’s not sure if he’s allowed to like it as much as he does. Lori doesn’t force him to come out from under the blanket where he’s hiding, instead she just stays knelt by his side, between the two mattresses on the floor that make up his and Carl’s beds. “It’s time for sleep now Daryl.” She tells him, and he can feel as she tucks the blankets around him a bit tighter, making sure to help keep out the chill of the slowly coming winter. Again fingers stroke through his hair, and it helps. Sometimes he needs quiet time like this to feel better, and with someone stroking through his hair, it helps. Lori just finger combs his hair for a while, not pushing for a response, but just being there for him, just giving him some comfort and not asking for anything in return. “Get some rest, and remember Rick and I are just down the hall if you need us okay?”

It’s the same thing she always says to Carl every night, and he thinks it’s very nice of Lori to do that for him. To share that with him. So he nods, because it would be rude to continue pretending to be asleep when Lori was being so nice and looking after him when he was upset. He’s grateful, and he knows he will have to thank Carl for sharing his mom with him. Lori gives a final stroke to his head, making sure the blankets are tucked in around him before she gets up, moving to the doorway and waiting there with her finger on the light switch as always.

“Goodnight boys. Sleep tight.” The light gets flicked off, she closes the door behind her and they both listen as she walks down the hallway and to the bedroom she shares with Rick.

Daryl knows it’s silly, but he feels a little better now. Lori has somehow made him feel safer, and maybe he understands why Carl may protest a little, but still smiles when his mom comes in to tuck him into bed. Smiling around his thumb, he feels better, and at least he knows he can go and get Rick or Lori if he needs anything. Plus Shane always says he can wake him if he needs him too. He might still be missing Merle, but he’s got some new family to help him out for now, and that makes things a lot better in his head. “’ank you Car’.” He mumbles around his thumb, even if he knows he’s not meant to talk around it.

“It’s cool. Goodnight Daryl.” Carl replies, and Daryl thinks he’s pretty damned lucky to have found a kid so selfless to be his friend. His first real friend other than his brother. Probably his best friend really.

He spends a lot of time around the farm hanging out with Carl. They work, as does everybody else, but sometimes there are things Carl can’t do, and the kid seems to like being around him. They have their crossbow training, and they ride the bike together, but a lot of their time is spent working. The farm needs a lot work to make it safe and every morning they have a meeting after breakfast where all the chores are handed out, and the work divided up evenly.

Patricia, Lori and Carol tend to take the household chores, like the laundry and food preparation. They keep the house running smoothly, doing the things that he doesn’t even think about doing because it never crosses his mind. The Dixon household wasn’t exactly clean, they didn’t really do laundry much, and food was whatever you could hunt down or find. So he actually enjoys getting to have clean clothes everyday, even if they tend to wear some clothing for days at a time to make good use of it, he still enjoys getting handed a pile of clothes that he can bury his face in and breathe in freshness. It smells so clean and nice, and even if it’s silly, sometimes he feels like he fits in the Greene’s nice house more when he gets to wear nice smelling clothes.

There had been a little problem one day. More like a mistake really. He’s just lucky he’d caught it in time. He knows Carol, Lori and Patricia only mean well, they’re just doing the chores and helping to keep things clean, and probably how normal was for these people before the infection spread. So he’s not mad at them for it. It had just been a mistake and he knows there hadn’t been any bad feelings behind it.

He’d come back inside to get the crossbow, Andrea and he were going to go and patrol the fences like they usually did, and sometimes he would teach her tracking techniques she wanted to learn. So he’d run back to his and Carl’s room to grab it, but there had been something that niggled at him. Almost like he could feel something was wrong, was different with the room, and it made something inside of him feel uneasy. Chewing on his lip, he scans the set up, the usual desk against the window, the bookshelves of animal books he liked to flick through, their two mattresses side by side on the floor with the gap down the middle. Everything looks the same as always, except for one thing. He and Carl’s bed were identical in every way, except for the colour of the pillows. Carl’s was the tan colour of the pillowcase and sheet set, his sheets were the same colour, but instead of him having a tan pillowcase, he always has the dark red of Merle’s shirt covering it instead.

But it’s not there.

There is no deep red anywhere near his bed, and everything else flies from his mind as the panic starts. He never moves it from his pillow. Merle’s shirt was for bedtime when he felt lonely, so it never had to leave his pillow on his bed. That is where it stays, where it lives, and not seeing it there makes his chest feel tight and his stomach feel funny. It’s like a whole lot of worry rushes through him all at once, making him feel shaky and wobbly and like he can’t hold it in at all.

Dropping the crossbow he grabs at his neatly made bed, yanking the sheets off, kicking the pillows out of the way to check beneath them. There is nothing there, and he scans the whole place before stripping Carl’s bed too. Nothing red there, nothing at all out of the ordinary. He can feel his breathing getting faster as he scans the room, shoving everything he can aside to check that it’s not fallen anywhere and gotten lost. Running his fingers over his head he winds them into his hair, yanking at where it’s growing long and trying to think of where the hell it could have gone without him noticing.

He’s whining when he hears footsteps behind him. Spinning to face the door he finds Andrea there, looking over the mess in the room curiously, but more focussed on him. “Daryl? What’s wrong?” She looks worried, reaching out a hand to set on his shoulder lightly.

“I- I can’t-“ His voice feels bubbly, and his breathing is so stuttered it catches on the words, making him hiccup and feel jumpy. But he tries to breathe, tries not to panic so bad. “I c-can’t find Merle’s sh-shirt.”

“Okay. Okay we’ll find it. Calm down Daryl, it’s okay.” Andrea smiles to him softly, her voice low and calming, soothing almost as she rubs his shoulder, reaching up to bring his hands down and away from his hair. Not even questioning why he’s upset over something that would be ridiculous to anybody else. “Tell me where you last had it.” She calms him down, helps him remained focussed and she always seems to have a plan. He likes that, he likes that Andrea always has a plan and a way to fix things.

Pointing to his pillow he tries to calm his breathing down, he knows when he gets like that sometimes he can’t breathe, and it makes him hurt more and feel all tight and lost. But Andrea is there by his side, hand still on his shoulder and keeping him calm, giving him back up when he feels on edge. Taking a breath he tries to think about it calmly, tries to piece together everything and think about where it could have gone. “It stays in my bed, on my pillow.” He tells her, well past the point of feeling embarrassed about it in front of her. Andrea won’t laugh, she never laughs at him, and she’d only ever tried to help. He knows the rules, knows where he’s allowed Merle’s shirt and he doesn’t feel ashamed about letting Andrea know the rules too. “It’s only for bedtime.”

She nods, scanning the room around them, eyes flicking over everything and clearly coming to the same conclusion as him. The shirt isn’t here, and they both know it couldn’t have moved on its own. It makes him feel anxious, and he fidgets with the hem of his shirt to get out some of the jittery feelings. Andrea gives him a little smile, her hand sliding down his arm to hold his wrist, tugging on it to get him to follow her as she heads out of the office cum bedroom and down the hall.

“I think I know what’s happened.” She reassures him, leading him by the hand to the basement where the laundry things were. Lori, Carol and Patricia are there, sorting through items by colour, chatting amongst themselves and looking up when they come down the steps. “Ladies, sorry to bother you. But when picking up laundry from Carl and Daryl’s room, did you happen to pick up a shirt from his pillow?”

“A red one.” He mumbles, chewing on his thumbnail as he looks about the basement, trying to see if he could find it himself just by looking. There is hope in his heart, a flutter in his chest that he clings onto because he doesn’t want to deal with the anxiety churning his stomach up.

The three of them look a little confused, glancing at each other but dutifully looking through the mounds of dirty laundry and tugging free anything that’s red to inspect it fully. It’s Carol that finds it, bundled in-between one of Carl’s dirty shirts and his pants, tangled up and ready to be thrown in the washer if they hadn’t intervened. Immediately he’s reaching out for it, hands grasping for it greedily, snagging into the fabric as soon as Carol offers it to him and bringing it to his face.

It still smells of Merle.

He makes a noise somewhere between a whimper and a whine, it catches in his throat and sounds pretty pathetic, but he doesn’t care. A wave of relief washes over him, and with his face smothered in Merle’s shirt he can’t see the reactions of the women around him. He doesn’t care how he looks, because the knot of fear and anxiety that had been catching in his chest before was finally subsiding now he had Merle’s shirt back. It makes it easier to breathe again and he’s just so relieved that nothing had happened to it.

“Daryl?” A soft hand is on his shoulder, gentle and just letting him know someone is there. Peeking out from the red fabric, he finds Carol there, smiling gently to him, not looking mad at all, not looking like she thinks he’s pathetic, just looking kind and safe as always. “I’m sorry sweetie, we didn’t know this shirt was special to you.”

“’s Merle’s.” He mumbles, twisting his fingers in the fabric, rubbing it over his cheek and feeling it get caught on the slightest stubble on his face. He knows it’s dumb. He knows it’s weird. Usually only kids had stuffed toys or a blanket or something they carried around for comfort, but he can’t help it. He just misses Merle so much. “Don’t mean to be ungrateful or nothin’. ‘ppreciate you doing the laundry and stuff for us.” Because he was shit at that sort of thing, and he knew they all had to do their part in keeping the farm running, and having clean clothes was definitely a part of that. Everybody was just as important as each other to keep things working, but he doesn’t want them to think he’s just being an ungrateful brat. “’s just… if it gets washed…”

“It won’t smell of Merle anymore?”

When he meets Carol’s eyes, he can see the understanding there. In fact, none of the women are looking at him like he’s being an ungrateful little shit. Instead they all look happy, little smiles on their faces and sharing looks with each other. He’s not exactly sure what’s making them smile like that, but they’re not yelling at him, so he doesn’t really mind. Nodding in answer, he can’t quite loosen his grip on the shirt yet, and even if he knows he should be going to patrol with Andrea, there is a part of him that doesn’t want to let go of the shirt. Even if he knows it’s meant to only be for bedtime or when things are bad, he doesn’t quite feel strong enough to leave it just yet. Even if the worry has been soothed, there is still the ache of fear inside of him.

“Daryl, do you need a few minutes?” Carol is asking him, concern in her eyes, but that gentle hand still on his shoulder. It moves up to run through his hair lightly, and he ducks his head, ashamed of himself for being so affected by something he’s sure seems stupid to other adults.

“It’s dumb.” He mumbles, voice feeling as small as he does right now.

“No, no it’s not.” And as always, Carol is making sure to reassure him. She’s good at that. Helping him feel better about some of the things he does. She’d been good so long ago when he’d been upset, sitting with him by the lake and making him feel better. Over the past few months here she’s become a good friend to him, always making sure he doesn’t hide how he feels. It’s comforting, it’s helpful, and when it’s Carol he doesn’t feel so stupid for having to explain himself. She keeps him close, runs her fingers through his hair and brings him down enough that she can kiss his forehead. “Why don’t you go and take a few minutes? Have some quiet time and you can come find Andrea when you’re ready?” She suggests to him.

Of course he feels bad about it. But when he glances up to Andrea she doesn’t look mad at all, in fact she’s smiling lightly to him, almost like she wants to encourage him. Carol nudges him back upstairs, Andrea follows and reassures him that she doesn’t mind waiting for a little while. It helps, and getting to sit for a while with just Merle’s shirt and his thumb does help to make him feel a whole lot better. Nobody gets mad about it, and it actually becomes common knowledge to everybody that sometimes he needs quiet time when he feels too overwhelmed. Everybody else picks up on it, and it seems to slide right into their everyday lives so easily, like it was always meant to be there.

Everybody works as a team on the farm, and Daryl likes that a lot. They have lookouts, they’re all learning how to farm, they’re learning how to look after the livestock, and learning about each other too. He thinks that’s the part he likes the best. It’s not just everybody learning how to live with him being how he is. It’s everybody learning how to live with each other.

They learn that he needs quiet time sometimes when he’s overwhelmed, but they learn about everybody else too. Like how they know Beth has to be reminded not to take too long in the bathroom in the mornings. They all learn about having to say grace before dinner because it’s Hershel’s house and they have to go by his rules. That still means no guns, and one of the lessons Shane had needed to learn was to stop demanding to have them back, because the old farmer wasn’t going to change his mind. They all learn to curb their language too, he’d been called out on that a few times, especially in front of the kids.

But it’s working. The farm is good, it’s safe and they’re all happy. Even Shane is doing better now. It’s taken time to get to where they are now, but it’s working. The cows are all happy, giving them milk everyday, and some are even ready to calf soon. Meaning they can maybe get some meat that isn’t rabbit or squirrel from his hunts. The chickens are laying too, giving them eggs, and Maggie has even penned a few with a rooster in hopes of getting more and more. It’s stable, it works and with their vegetable garden growing strong too, he thinks they’re going to be pretty well set up for the winter.

Heading out of the house with his bow, he makes sure to button up his jacket. The weather is getting colder, the days are getting shorter and he knows they’re all going to have to work extra hard to get through the winter together. Before it wasn’t such a big deal, but now with only the generator for power, he knows they won’t exactly be able to have the heat turned on everyday. It’ll be tough, if there is anything that’s going to test their abilities to survive, it’ll be when the world itself turns cold and makes things harder. But he’s not worried, he thinks they should be find.

The fences are pretty strong now. They have two around the area. One is the original boundaries around the farm, repaired by all of them, and patrolled every few hours to clear the odd walker that gets stuck in them. There is never more than two or three a day. It’s manageable, and every single person has to get used to taking them out. It’s not fun. It’s never fun, and Daryl knows that Rick has been making sure Carl knows it’s not a game, and it’s definitely not funny. The walkers still look sick, he doesn’t ever like having to take them out, but he knows it’s important. Because if he doesn’t, then they could bite someone and make them sick too. It’s not his favourite thing to do, but he’s always had to do things he doesn’t like to survive.

The second fence has more metal in it to make it stronger. It’s only around the actual farm house, with spikes and spears added to the top. There is barbed wire on some areas, and sharp metal left on top to make it more dangerous. They’ve never had any walkers get that close, but he has a feeling maybe it wasn’t always meant to keep out walkers. He doesn’t like to think about it. Shane just tells him it’s important to keep them all safe. He understands that, so he doesn’t ask anymore questions.

It’s getting colder, and the days are getting shorter, but he still wants to go hunt for them all. He knows how important it is to save the livestock for when they really needed them, and if he could keep bringing in a decent bit of meat for them all, well it would only help. Sure sometimes it’s more acorns and mushrooms instead of meat, but anything they can get is better than nothing.

Shane is on patrol, and he’s glad because he knows the rules. Well the new rules that Shane has helped make for him. Some of them are the same as before. Don’t let walkers bite you. You have to make sure to take them out even if you don’t like doing it. But there are some new ones that he’s getting used to.

Approaching the edge of the farm’s boundaries by the woods, he smiles as he heads over to Shane’s lookout post, liking how he knows what to expect. Rules make things easier, and so does repetition, Shane has given him both of those things. The other man hops down from his post, shotgun in hand, always ready for anything.

“Heading out?” Shane asks, and Daryl’s so relieved that he’s not so wary of the other man anymore. Shane has gone from someone he didn’t like at all, to someone he trusts to help as best he can. It’s taken a while, but they understand each other, and since he’s been helping him out more, it feels like Shane isn’t so focussed on Lori and being upset by all of that. Daryl can’t exactly help with that aspect of things, he doesn’t know a damned thing about babies or relationships, but if nothing else it seems he’s a good enough distraction. Shane’s been better, he’s been nicer, and doesn’t shout anywhere near as much anymore.

It’s better nowadays. Shane is his friend, he helps make up new rules, and he knows that the other man doesn’t mind his dumbass questions. Sometimes he’ll do it on purpose. If he sees Shane watching Lori rub over her tiny bump of a belly, he’ll sometimes go over and ask for help with something. Or if he can see that Shane is mad about not having his gun, and his temper is up over something, he’ll ask him to go hunting with him. Shane has definitely helped him with the new rules, but he figures he’s helped him back just as much in his own way.

“Yep. Was gonna try get some rabbits while there’s still some daylight.” He nods, bow on his back, knife at his hip and gun tucked in the back of his belt. He’s used to this part, and it helps because he’s better when there is repetition. “They’ll be getting slower as they fatten up for winter.”

Shane nods, used to this. Used to him. “Got your weapons?” He asks and of course Daryl is nodding.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t like having the gun, but he knows they always need back up. He has his knife and his bow, but he has to take his gun too when he leaves the farm. Just in case. He remembers before when he’d been looking for Sophia, and he’d been hurt in the creek, it would have been easier if he’d had a gun for back up. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “You gonna be here when I get back?” Daryl asks, and maybe it’s childish, but he likes having someone here to meet him when he comes home.

“Sure am.” Shane knows that. Shane knows him. Knows what he likes, and what makes him happy. Its taken time but he’s been allowed to be himself, to be Daryl. It means that people have seen more of him, and they’ve learnt how to make things easier for him. How to help in the simplest of ways. Being here helps. “Where abouts you heading to?”

It’s one of the new rules. To make things easier for him, and to make things safer, and easier for the farm. He has to let someone know where he’s going, because it’s not just him on his own, they’re a group and they all need to know. It makes things safer. For everybody.

“No further than the ridge on the east side. I’ll turn back when I hit that.” They went through the maps of the area and sectioned it out. He knows the rules. At this time of night he’s only allowed to go one square out, and the east ridge was the furthest he could go before having to get back before nightfall. It’s the new rules, to keep everybody safe from danger and worry. “Won’t go far.”

“How long?” The second question, one he knows he has to answer or he’s not allowed to go hunting. Not that he can’t go when he wants, but he has to let them know. Because they’re a team, a family, and it only works if everybody works together. Shane had explained it all to him before.

“No more than a couple of hours.” He checks the sun as Shane checks his watch, both of them counting out how long he’s got. “Be back before dark.” Because he knows he has to be, because at night things got harder, and everybody got a lot more worried.

Shane nods, a smile on his face and a look of understanding in his eyes. He’s not the best at reading people, but over time he’s gotten better at understanding Shane. So he knows he’s not being mean, he’s just making sure he understands. “Make sure you are. If you’re not back in two and a half hours, we’ll be coming to look for you.” He explains as always, and it makes Daryl smile to know there are people who would do that for him now.

“I will be. Won’t stay out any later than I gotta. If I don’t see nothin’ I’ll come home.” Because before he’d stayed out. When he’d felt like he had to bring something back, because coming home empty handed made him feel useless. Made him feel like more of a burden than a part of the team. He knows different now, they’d all been worried for him, about to come look for him when he’d trailed home empty handed. Shane had been angry, but not at him, just at his choices. It’s why they have these rules now.

Because rules made things easier for him.

“If you get into trouble…”

“Two shots.” He nods, the answer comes easily and he knows they always need an emergency signal. “I know. I’ll be fine.” Daryl tells him, more than happy to be the one reassuring for once.

“I know you will bud, but it’s always good to have a plan. Remember if you find something or someone that you’re not sure about…”

“Stay hidden, and come home.” It makes him smile as he climbs over their boundary fence, leaving Shane on the side of the farm as he gets ready to head out hunting. “I know Shane, I got it.”

“I know you do man. Stay safe alright?” Shane tells him. With a small smile on his face and a shake of his head as he waves him off. “And find us something good for dinner.”

“Got it.” He calls over his shoulder as he leaves, heading between the trees he knows so well.

He’s always liked rules. Ever since he was little, it was easier to know what to do if he had rules to follow. Merle had taught him so many over the years, but he remembers the most important one.

No one is allowed to know.

It had to be a secret. Merle used to make sure he knew that. He was different, and if other people knew then things would be bad. He never knew why it would be bad, or how things would change, but Merle always told him it would be bad, so he knew it had to be a secret. For so long he’d kept it all to himself, tried to act normal around others, and keep it all hidden from the rest of the world. But new here he was, after the end of the world, and he had a family that liked him anyway.

Things have been better lately. Now he knows he can be Daryl, and nobody was gonna get mad, it’s been better. They know he needs quiet time sometimes if things get overwhelming for him. They know he needs his thumb and Merle’s shirt at night and when he’s stressed out. They know he finds Carl more on his level with some things, and that he’s not the best at reading or writing. But none of it matters. They like him anyway, and everytime he gets worried about acting like that around one of them, he remembers when Rick had told him they’d have him just the way he is.

It hadn’t been a lie. They really did want him anyway. Every single one of them did. Even Dale. The old man wasn’t exactly mean to him, he just didn’t understand him properly, and sometimes he’d try to do things for Daryl instead of letting him do it himself. It had been frustrating the first few times, when Dale tried to keep him out of group talks, or would try to stop him from taking watch. But people had talked to Dale, and he’d proven that he was more than capable of doing what everybody else did, and even if things were still sometimes difficult, they were better now.

The farm was safe. It might be hard work, but its working and he likes having somewhere permanent to call home. The people are becoming family to him, and it’s not as scary as he’d thought it would be to let them in so close. Carl is his best friend, who doesn’t care if he sucks his thumb, or needs Merle’s shirt to be able to sleep. Carol was good at taking care of him and making sure he understood things. Shane was good at coming up with new rules, and keeping him focussed on the here and now. Rick was good at giving him reassurance and sometimes even giving him hugs when physical contact would help makes things better. T-Dog and Glenn were good at helping him laugh when things were bad, letting him in on little jokes and not letting him feel left out. Hershel was kind, letting him read his books and always willing to listen to his ideas. Even the Greene girls were nice, letting him join in game night and not laughing when he didn’t always understand everything.

It was a mismatch of people, and maybe there were difficult times, but it was working for them all. They were making it work together.

He likes having a family. And being able to provide for them by hunting makes him feel useful. Winter really is baring down on them, and the woods are quiet around him. He likes it, sometimes he needs quiet time to himself inside the farm, but when he’s out hunting, he likes being alone. He’s good at hunting. It’s something he can do without having to think too hard, and it always made people happy when he came home with a decent catch.

So he tracks, close to the ground and looking for all the signs of life that he knows. Scratch marks on trees, nibbled down blades of grass, and it doesn’t take long before he’s got a brace of rabbits tied to his belt, caught and ready to be gutted for dinner. He’s pleased, and maybe he’s a little proud of himself for being able to provide for his family even if hunting was getting harder. His thumb finds its way up to his mouth, wedging between his lips naturally for him to suck on it as he slings his crossbow onto his back. He feels good, feels successful and he’s pretty sure he’s earned a victory suck on his thumb for being able to catch a decent amount of meat for dinner.

He can’t wait. He’s never been a good cook, more often than not he was limited to spit roasting what he caught, or making a sandwich, but with the group, dinner is something to look forward too. He’s never been very good with food. Merle calls him a picky eater, that or a pain in the ass. It’s not like he means to be. Sometimes food is just difficult for him. It’s not that he doesn’t like food, he does. He’s gone through times of not having food for a long while, like when he was a kid and had gotten lost out in the woods, and he knows how much he doesn’t like being without food. He does like food. He just likes it a certain way.

At first he hadn’t wanted to say anything. Because dinner was a group thing, and there were an awful lot of people that would think him rude if he complained. He knows food isn’t as plentiful as it used to be, and with so many of them they had to be grateful for what they had. But it had been hard sometimes. Especially when he couldn’t eat it. He’d sat at the table, chewing on his nail, trying not to make a big deal of it as his plate had sat there, rabbit stew still steaming hot in front of him, untouched. There had been the usual bubble of conversation going on around him, people talking about plans for tomorrow and about going on another supply run. Daryl had been fine with being ignored, not wanting to make a problem when there didn’t have to be one.

“Daryl? Come on eat up.” Rick had nudged him, tried to coax him to eat, but he couldn’t. It’s not that he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t. It was hard to try and explain. So he’d slumped in his chair, shaken his head and been more than happy to let Carl have his share. “Daryl come on, don’t waste your food.” Rick had chided him, just trying to be helpful, and not understanding that it was a lot harder than just picking up his fork and eating.

“’m not hungry.” He’d tried to tell him instead, because explaining wasn’t easy and Merle was the only one who understood his stupid head when it came to food. But it hadn’t worked, especially not when his stomach had rumbled and made Rick chuckle before handing him his fork.

“Come on now, don’t want it getting cold. Eat your stew.” Rick hadn’t even been yelling, he hadn’t even been mad but it had felt like too much. It had felt like there was no way out and he hated feeling trapped. So he’d gotten up from the table, head down, and ignored everybody else as he’d headed outside. He knew it was rude, knew that he should have asked permission to be excused, but the words had felt caught in his throat.

Outside on the porch he’d tried to think of a way to explain it. Because he knew how it worked with the group. Not a few moments later Rick had followed him out, closing the doors behind him and giving them some privacy. He had been used to it by then, someone always followed if he walked away, and they always wanted him to explain how they could help. Use his words. That’s what they always told him, because they weren’t mind readers, and they couldn’t help if they didn’t know the problem.

Rick had been calm, and gone to stand with him on the porch, leaning on the banister beside him, looking out over the farm. For a while there had been silence between them, a little awkward, but Daryl knew what had been coming. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” Not commanding, not yelling, just direct and to the point. He did better when things were laid out easy for him to follow.

“I can’t…” Daryl had stumbled over the words, chewing on his thumb as he’d tried to get his thoughts into order. Merle got it, Merle always got everything about him, even if he did complain sometimes. But his brother wasn’t here, and he knows Rick only wants to help. Can’t fix a problem if he didn’t know what it was. He’d huffed around his thumb, squirmed in place a little and tried his best to explain. “I don’t like when food touches.” He’d mumbled.

For what it was worth, Rick hadn’t laughed. He’d looked confused, tilted his head and looked out over the farm a little more before turning to him again. “When food touches? Like, on the plate?” Rick had asked and he’d nodded as he’d tried to explain it as best he could.

“I don’t like it.” He’d mumbled, feeling ridiculous, but even if he knew it was silly, he’d never been able to overcome it. “It’s better when it doesn’t touch, like when we have gaps on the plate between it all. Or when we have a can each for dinner.” Or before when he’d have to make do with something he’d caught, like squirrel, but he could eat it on its own and it wouldn’t have to touch anything else. It’s why he’d used to like junk food, like when Merle would come home and treat him to something like McDonalds, where the food came in its own little boxes and couldn’t touch. Merle had been used to it. Used to him picking at food he could eat, more often than not Merle would eat whatever he didn’t and let him be as picky as he wanted.

It had been hell when he’d been smaller. When Merle had been home it had been okay, because Merle would sit and make sure nothing touched, or get him something in its own packet, or even sit and let him eat what he wanted from Merle’s plate because for some reason it tasted better to him. But when Merle hadn’t been there it had been hell. Their dad was always punishing him when it was just him without Merle. His dad’s favourite game had been to pile things on a plate at dinner, and tell him to eat it if he was hungry. He’d cried. A lot. Because he had been hungry, but unable to eat. So many nights he’d been sent to bed hungry. His dad had said he was making him stronger, tougher, only punishing him for being bad so he could make him better. He’d never felt better for it.

He’d been afraid then. Scared that Rick would do the same to him, call him an ungrateful little shit and force him to sit and eat food that had touched other food on the plate. But Rick is nothing like his father. Rick is a good man, a kind man, and an understanding man. Rick had nodded, led him back into the kitchen, and made him up a plate of dinner, with clear spaces in between each type of food. It wasn’t stew like everybody else’s, but he could eat it and he’d been so damned grateful for Rick helping him instead of questioning it.

Daryl didn’t understand it himself, all he knew was that he didn’t like it when food touched. Since then it hadn’t been a problem. Sometimes he had the same dinner as everybody else with nothing touching, sometimes he’d have something different, but he was never left out of dinner just because he was difficult. He appreciates that. He’s still allowed to be a part of the family anyway.

Sucking around his thumb he continues walking through the woods, not so worried about being quiet since he’s caught more than enough rabbits for dinner. He still doesn’t like killing them, but he does what he has to, and they’re more important than rabbits. Dinner would be good tonight, they’ve got plenty of vegetables to go with it, and he knows Lori and Carol make the best dinners. He’s already heading home when he hears it, the slight uneven crunch of someone walking with an unsteady gait. He knows that sound, and it makes him huff a little in annoyance around his thumb.

Letting his hand slip to his knife, he crouches low, already scanning through the trees to try and see where the walker is coming from. There is no moaning, it’s more of a gurgle, like someone coughing on water for a long time. He can smell them, they all smell the same, of death and rot and stuff that gets caught in his nose and makes him want to cough. Instead he focuses on trying to find it, and making sure to take it out before it even reaches the farm. He is allowed to take out walkers, so long as there weren’t too many of them, and he knows if he doesn’t it’ll just reach the farm and he’ll have to kill it there anyway. Might as well do it now.

There is more than one, he can tell. Maybe two or three. Sucking on his thumb he knows it’s horrible to have to take them out, but he has to, he’s more important than walkers. Have to get them in the brain, so they don’t suffer, so they can sleep. He knows the rules.

Unsheathing his knife, he finds them. Three of them, just past the thick brush ahead of him. They’re stumbling along, gurgling, hissing, and he swears if he didn’t know better he’d say he could hear one of them making noises of pain. But walkers can’t feel pain. Merle had said so, it’s why they didn’t always notice they were hurt. Moving quickly he prepares to jump ahead of them, get their attention and take them out one by one. It wouldn’t be hard, he’s getting better at taking down walkers, and he knows it’s for the best that he does it fast. Still with his thumb in his mouth, he takes in a deep breath before he makes himself known, darting through the brush with his knife raised.

Only to pause when he sees what’s on the other side. It’s not three walkers. There are only two walkers on chains. Chains that are being held by a woman with a sword.

He’s not sure what rules apply to this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't know how this chapter got so long, but it did. I know I said more prompts and one shots before multiple chapters get updated, but I find writing Real Me easier than other works, and Real Me Daryl cheers me up when I'm feeling down. So you'll have to enjoy a super long chapter in the meantime, what a shame huh? As always thanks for being so patient with me guys and your comments mean the world to me, your continued support is awesome x <3


	18. Arms almost open

For a moment it’s like he freezes in place, feet stuck to the floor, one hand wrapped around his knife, with the thumb of his other hand wedged in his mouth. He’d been ready to take out walkers, just walkers, not two walkers and a lady with a sword. The rules were to stay hidden and come home if he saw anybody else who wasn’t a walker. But he can’t do that now, not now that she’s seen him too. She is similarly frozen in place, staring up at him with a look of fear, her sword drawn and pointed right at him.

Daryl isn’t sure what the hell to do. Walkers were fine, he could deal with walkers because even if he didn’t like it, he just had to stab them in the head, put them to sleep and then go home. Nothing too confusing about that. But people, he didn’t know what to do with people. Shane had helped, Shane had warned him and told him about the new rules, to stay hidden, to report anybody he saw and be wary of them all. Because people were dangerous now. Just like they were dangerous and fighting to stay alive and safe as a family, so were other people, and they might not be so friendly to them. So he was supposed to stay hidden and go home.

He’d already broken the rules without even meaning to.

That alone makes him feel uneasy, and if he didn’t have his thumb in his mouth already, it would be making its way there to help sooth his worries anyway. As it is he sucks a little harder, and lets his raised arm with the knife lower down to his side. When his feet finally unstick from the floor, he shifts in place, feeling on edge as they stare each other down. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit. But he doesn’t know what to do either.

The walkers growl, gurgling in their throats and when Daryl’s attention is turned to them he frowns a little. They’re different from regular walkers, because they don’t have arms, or a lower jaw. It’s like they fell off or something. He’s seen some walkers with no legs, or bits and pieces falling off, but none that looked the exact same. Like it was deliberate. Like somebody had made them look that way. Plus they’ve got chains on them. Like leashes or something being held by the lady with the sword. It’s weird, it’s not something he’s seen before, and Daryl can’t help but shuffle in place as he tries to work it out.   
  
“They pets?” He asks, the words slurred around his thumb, but there, clear enough and obviously heard by the woman before him if her confused face is any indicator. “They… they walker pets?” He’s curious, he can’t help it, he’s always been one to ask questions when he’s unsure.

Opposite him, the woman shifts on her feet, still watching him, still with her sword out, but she lowers it a little. He takes that as a good sign. He hopes it’s a good sign at least. The walkers growl a little more, she tugs on their chains and one of them stumbles a step closer to him, making him take his own step back away from it. It makes him clench his grip on his knife, makes him suck on his thumb a little harder and watch her a little closer. But she doesn’t look like she’s going to attack him; she just looks like she’s as confused as he is.

“No.” Finally she speaks, and her voice is rough, like she’s forgotten how to use it almost, and she looks just as surprised as he feels that she’s answered him. There is a pause, the woman swallows, shifts on her feet again and it really looks as if she’s trying to remember how to do this, how to talk to somebody else. Daryl doesn’t mind, he sometimes finds it hard to talk to other people too. “No they’re not walker pets.” It’s quiet, her voice sounds rusty, tired, but clear enough for Daryl to hear and understand her.

Tilting his head to the side, Daryl hums a little around his thumb, giving a small nod of understanding even if he’s still not sure what that means the walkers actually are. But they ain’t pets at least. It would be stupid to have walker pets. Even if they didn’t have arms to scratch and teeth to bite. He thinks that’s pretty clever actually, but they still wouldn’t be good pets. Not ones that he wants anyway.

The woman still looks wary of him, and he knows he should be careful of her, but she hasn’t done anything bad to him yet. That’s good, because he knows that most people out there would hurt you first and ask questions later, the fact that she’s not hurt him can only be a good sign. Her pet walkers are weird, and he knows he should be wary of her sword, but still she doesn’t look so bad. Slowly he sheathes his knife at his belt, letting his free hand linger there just in case as he shuffles from foot to foot. If she wasn’t going to hurt him then maybe they could work this out?

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He points out, mumbling around his thumb and he’s fairly certain he’s meant to be saying something else. Probably meant to be questioning her or something more cop like, that’s what Rick or Shane would do. But he doesn’t feel like he’d be good at that. Sure he knows how to be an asshole, learnt that from Merle easy enough, but right now he doesn’t really want to be one to her.

He hates this. Being lost as to what to do isn’t his favourite thing, and when he knows it’s important like this, he hates not knowing what to do even more. Shane had been really clear in his new rules, and now he’s gone and broken them already, with no clue as to how to fix it. It makes him feel awkward and unsure, like he’s got bubbles in his stomach and they’re popping in his throat. Humming around his thumb he shuffles again, trying to think of what exactly he should do about this situation when the woman speaks again.

“Are you out here on your own?” She asks him, but her sword is lowered to the floor, the tip of the blade resting on the dried leaves as she stands before him.

Shaking his head he knows the answer to that question, but immediately he doesn’t know if he should have let her know he’s not alone. Cursing himself inwardly, he wedges his thumb deeper into his mouth, and he wishes he had somebody else out here to deal with this problem. Reaching up with his free hand, he winds his fingers in his hair, tugging on the strands a little, pulling on his scalp until it hurts. That was stupid of him to let her know there were others, but it was stupid of him to be seen in the first place too. He hates making the wrong choices, and he can’t help but let out a frustrated whine as he tries to think of an answer. Things were just going wrong today.

Before he can think of what to do, she’s moving, the sword still down and a hand reached out to him as she goes to step closer. “Hey don’t hurt yourself-“ But then she cuts herself off with a hiss, a stumble, and she reaches down to clutch at her thigh instead. It’s red. Stained with blood, and Daryl’s been a hunter for long enough to know a bullet wound when he sees one. It’s not bleeding anymore, well it is but it’s sluggish, slow, clearly been a bullet wound for a while. She’s been shot, and Daryl knows he’s not smart, but even he knows that bullet wounds are bad news and need to be looked after properly or they could cause a lot of irreversible damage.

It makes him hum a little harder around his thumb, winding his hair around his fingers and yanking on it as he thinks it through. The wound looks bad. Bad enough that maybe the reason the woman is shivering a little isn’t because of the chill in the air, but because of a possible fever coming in from an infection. That’s not a good thing, and from the looks of things, the lady didn’t have a lot of supplies on her. Or a group, all she looked to have were her pet walkers. That made a lot of things more difficult, especially when you didn’t have anybody to watch your back as you healed. He’d needed help when he’d been injured after the fall down the cliff, and he knows he probably wouldn’t have made it if he hadn’t had other people there to look after him.

“I…” He stumbles over his words, and slowly he removes his thumb so he can be heard properly by the stranger. “I don’t do so good on my own.” He points out to her, stepping a little closer and not so wary anymore. She doesn’t seem so bad, and she’s got a bullet wound, if nothing else he could outrun her if things went bad. Maybe he’s not the best with people, but she doesn’t seem so bad, and sometimes you had to take chances with people. He’d done it with the group, and he’d never go back to being on his own again. Maybe this woman just needed a chance too? “If… If we help you, you wouldn’t... you ain’t allowed to hurt nobody.” He tells her.

Maybe it’s stupid, maybe he’s dumber than he he’s been told, maybe he just has too much faith in people, but he wants to help her. He doesn’t want her to stay out here on her own, because he knows how much it sucks to be on your own. Even if he only ever had his dad, or Merle, it was still always better than being on his own. He hated being on his own.

The sound of the sword being sheathed catches his attention, and he can see the way the woman is hunched over a little more, like she’s in pain and trying not to show it. It makes him feel a little better if she doesn’t have a weapon out, even if she is still holding the walker chains like they’re pets. “You do have people? You have a group?” She asks him and well she already knows the answer anyway.

So he nods, clutching at the strap to his bow a little. “Yeah, I don’t do so good by myself.” He repeats to her, giving a half shrug in answer. “We can help fix your leg for you. If you don’t get it fixed soon you’ll get an infection, then you’ll die anyway.” He points out, because he knows that sometimes infection is the more difficult problem to deal with rather than the initial wound. She looks a little stunned by what he’s saying, but he knows it’s the truth. “But you have to promise not to hurt nobody. Promise.” And he must sound pretty serious, because the way she looks at him is like she can see how much it means to him.

Slowly she reaches out a hand to him, one not covered in blood or holding walker chains, but one that he takes because he can see that understanding in her eyes when she answers. “I promise not to hurt anybody.”

Daryl knows he’s not a smart man, he knows he’s made mistakes in his life, but this doesn’t feel like another one. It feels like a step in the right direction. There is something about this woman that makes him want to trust her. She’s not cocky, she’s not loud, she’s not angry or vicious, and she hasn’t tried to hurt him even though she could have easily. He feels like he can take a chance with her. “I’m Daryl.” He tells her, glancing back over his shoulder as she follows him, being led back to the farm slowly to accommodate her limp.

“Michonne.” She tells him, and when he shares a smile with her, he thinks he’s made the right choice. Maybe Shane was wrong. Maybe not all other people were bad news. Besides, he knows he and Merle hadn’t exactly been the nicest people when they’d first joined the group, but he’d been allowed to stick around and now things were good. They were making a family out of lots of different people, and even if he loves his family already, he thinks there might still be room for more. He thinks maybe Michonne could be one of them.

The clink of chains follows them, as well as the slight drag of Michonne’s injured leg. He’s still not sure about the pet walkers, and he knows if he isn’t too keen on them, them Shane really won’t like them. Actually, Shane might not be too happy with a lot of things he’s bringing home. When they get close enough to the outskirts of the farm, he pauses, holding out a hand for Michonne to stop behind him. “Wait here, I should go first and let them know you’re coming.” She nods, leans up against a tree and hisses a little as she reaches down to her injured leg again. He knows she needs them, even if Shane might be mad. Because Shane is probably going to be mad at first.

But he can handle it, because he knows this is the right choice. Just because some people were bad didn’t mean they all were, and Michonne seems to be their kind of people. A survivor, a fighter, and Daryl wonders if he’d not followed the group after losing Merle, would he maybe be in her position himself? It’s not a nice thing to think about, and if he were in her position, he’d want someone to take a chance on him too.

He leaves Michonne in the tree line, far enough back that she’s hidden from view, but close enough that he could call for her if needed. Heading over to where he’d left Shane earlier, he’s pleased to find that Rick is there too, that should make things easier. The other man always seemed to manage to stay calm easier than Shane did. Maybe they’d just worked together for so long they balanced each other out well, almost like that stupid good cop, bad cop thing that Merle spoke about sometimes. Either way he knows things will probably be a little calmer since Rick was here to help.

Nodding to them both as he approaches, he tries to act natural, act calm, but he has a feeling he’s not very good at it. His skin feels itchy; especially his palms, and he can’t help but not want to meet their gaze as he goes up to them. Even though he hasn’t really done anything, he still feels guilty, and he can’t help but chew on the tip of his thumb when he comes to pause before them both at the fence on the edge of the farm.

“Hey bud, find anything decent for dinner?” Shane asks him, gesturing to the brace of rabbits hanging at his belt. It’s not much, and he’s done better some days, but then he’s also done worse on others. He has a feeling Shane is just asking a safe question to find out why he’s back earlier than usual.

Chewing on his thumb he gives a loose shrug, feeling the curl of unease in his stomach as he tries to find the words to explain himself and his actions. For what it’s worth, even if they’re both watching him curiously, they’re at least giving him a chance to try and find his words himself. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to stand firm and sound sure of himself and his choices like Rick and Shane always did.

“I found someone.” Better not to beat about the bush, might as well just get it out there right away and deal with the consequences. Looking up from the floor he’s not surprised that the other men look startled by the news, Rick immediately moving closer to him, and Shane scanning the tree line automatically. Rick is looking over him for injuries, clearly worried, whereas Shane looks a little pissed as he searches the nearby area, shotgun up against his shoulder, ready to fire if need be. That worries him a little, especially knowing that Shane was the type of guy to shoot first and ask questions later, so he moves to explain himself, reaching out a hand to push the barrel of the gun to point upwards and away from anyone. “She ain’t dangerous.” He tells them.

“You found someone?”

“She?”

It’s strange how differently they react at the same news. Daryl knows he’s not the best at reading people, but he does know Rick and Shane, and he knows it’s just how they are. Rick stays next to him, a hand on his shoulder, keeping him steady and giving him the reassurance that he needs right now. Shane though, Shane is moving already, pacing back and forth and even if he has lowered his gun he is still scanning the border of the farm, as if danger was lurking just beyond their eye line. He doesn’t like that, because all it would take is one snap of a twig and Shane would react.

Moving in front of Shane he blocks his view, distracting him for a moment as he tries to get his words in order and explain. “I found her in the woods, she ain’t dangerous. I swear she ain’t.” Looking to Rick for support he’s glad when the other man gives Shane a look, one he’s probably used before between the friends, one that gets him to listen first before reacting. It gives him time to try and get things in order in his head, and find a way to explain why he thought it was alright to break the rules. Chewing on his thumb he takes a deep breath in through his nose, sighing it out around his favourite digit before making his attempt. “Her name is Michonne.”

“You spoke to her?” Shane still looks tense, squared shoulders, his teeth clenched together behind his lips, and really it’s no surprise to Daryl when the other man raises a hand to rub over the back of his head. He knows that’s Shane’s unsure move, like his is to chew or suck on his thumb, Shane’s is to rub his head to get out the shaky feeling of unease that people have when they feel like that. But right now, though Shane still looks a little more angry than usual, he also looks worried, for him.

Daryl figures he should try and help stop that feeling as soon as he could. “Yeah. After I went to stab her.” He explains, gesturing to the sheathed knife at his hip. It doesn’t seem to help, Rick and Shane looks at each other for a second, but then they’re back to him, looking confused as all hell.

Shane shakes his head, moves both hands back to his shotgun, and takes another glance to the woods at the edge of the farm’s perimeter. Still scanning for danger, still not convinced, and Daryl is annoyed that he’s not doing a very good job of explaining himself. “You what?” Shane asks him, and Daryl sighs a little before trying again.

“Thought she was a walker first.” He tells them, hoping for some kind of sign that they understood. It doesn’t happen, and again there are two confused faces looking back at him, Shane is still tense, Rick looks lost, and Daryl gives a frustrated sigh as his hands move up to wind through his hair in aggravation.

But Rick is there, stepping close enough to stop him. The other man moves to take his wrists, tugging his hands back down from his hair, grounding him for a moment, giving him a second to breathe before speaking. “Start from the beginning, you went hunting right? So tell us when you first saw her, and then tell us what happened from there.” Rick has his calm face on, the one he uses when Daryl feels overwhelmed, or when Shane gets mad, or when Carl is acting out. He knows that face, it’s the face of someone who will listen to him, even if it take him a little bit to get it all out.

So he takes a breath, closes his eyes for a second, and when he feels ready he opens them again before explaining. “I was hunting, and I heard walkers. It was definitely walkers, could hear the way their feet drag across the ground, not like when people lift their feet properly. Didn’t want to waste time with the bow, thought it would be better to just take ‘em out with the knife, put them to sleep like usual. Wasn’t till I saw ‘em I noticed it weren’t three walkers.” He tells them. Shane still looks unsure, but the gun is still pointing down so that’s good.

“But it wasn’t three walkers?” Rick coaxes him to continue, hands still on him, grounding him, mixing with his calm face to let Daryl know he was doing good.

Shaking his head Daryl carries on. “One of ‘em was a lady. Michonne. The other two were walkers though, but they’re pet walkers instead of the usual ones.”

“Wait, pet walkers?” Before he can continue Shane is asking, shaking his head, looking frustrated because he doesn’t understand even when Daryl is trying his best.

Sighing a little, Daryl really wishes he could do this properly. “They’re on chains. Got collars on like dogs, and chains on them like leashes. They’re Michonne’s pets.” He tells them, but it seems as if it’s still not clear enough for the other men. “Could just go and get her.” He points out, gesturing to the tree line at the border of the farm. “Told her to wait while I came and told ya.”

Shane still looks pissed, but Rick looks pretty calm, he’s got that look on his face like he’s thinking about it, and there is a feeling deep inside Daryl’s gut that tells him Rick will make the right choice for them all. “I say we at least talk to her. If she meant to do us harm she would have done it. It was just her and Daryl out there, but she followed him here, where there is more danger for her if we’re hostile.” Rick points out, hands on his hips, body relaxed, looking like he knows it’ll all work out. It makes Daryl feel better about finding Michonne in the first place.

“Are you serious?” But Shane is tense, his muscles all bunched up and making him seem bigger, more intimidating than usual. “You want to just let a stranger in? Just invite someone in here? To our home? Someone you don’t know shit about?” He sounds pretty worried, pretty loud, but it’s his words that make Daryl cock his head to the side before he interrupts the clearly oncoming rant from the other man.

“Like Hershel and his family did for us?” He points out. That makes Shane shut up, it makes Rick look to his friend with his head tilted, and then there is a few moments of pause between them all. Honestly, Daryl hadn’t been trying to end the argument, he’d just not been too sure why helping someone out was a bad thing. “I mean, they didn’t know us when we got here, but they helped us out. Fixed Carl after he got shot, used their supplies, their food, let us come live in the big house with them.” He doesn’t want to make Shane mad by not liking his idea, but he also knows that he’s right about this. He’s not right about a lot of things, but there is just a feeling inside that lets him know he’s right about this.

Rick nods, looks ready, he looks like he’s finished thinking about it and is ready to go. Shane still looks annoyed even if he’s calmed down from swearing and raising his voice. “I still don’t agree with it.” He tells them, brow furrowed, fingers tight around his gun.

“’s not like I don’t think we shouldn’t be careful.” He tells him, because if there is one thing he doesn’t want, it’s Shane being mad at him and not liking him again. “But there is only one of her. There’s a lot of us, we can give her a chance and just be careful.” Besides Michonne had seemed nice enough to him, even if she did have pet walkers. Hershel’s family had done so much for them, even when there wasn’t a lot left in the world, they’d been willing to share it, taken them in, and Daryl may be a lot of things but he’s not dumb enough to think they’d be better off still on the road. “Plus she’s hurt, I’m pretty sure we could take her.”

There is a sigh, a pretty big one from Shane, but he does relent, giving a nod before gesturing for Daryl to lead the way. He cant help but feel a little proud of himself for fighting his corner and even managing to explain well enough in the end. Maybe Shane isn’t totally convinced, but they’re following him to the woods, both Rick and Shane following his lead.

“If this all goes to shit, I’m blaming you.” Shane tells him, but there isn’t a lot of anger behind it. Instead it’s said with a nudge to Daryl’s side, Shane’s elbow nudging his hip, and when he glances over he finds the other man not exactly smiling, but not looking too pissed at him either. He knows it was the right choice, and once Michonne gets all fixed up by Hershel and gets to know everybody, he’s pretty sure they’ll all see it was the right choice too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So it's been a long time. The reason is because I went and had a baby, and that means a lot of hard work 24/7! So this chapter might be shorter than normal (I try to hit 5,000 words each chapter but this is under I believe) but at least it's here and you can read it! Thank you guys so much for being so patient, so supportive, and the comments and kudos mean so much to me. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to just update even one fic, but nothing is abandoned I promise you, it just really is going to take me longer now I have my son to raise. Thank you all so so so much, getting to write again has felt so amazing, it's sad but I love this hobby and hope to one day be good enough to get paid for it. Thank you all a thousand times over, and I hope you enjoy, and hope to get more things updated for you all. xxx


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